Imperfections
by Ace of Dreams
Summary: Sometimes the parts of ourselves we think are dead come back to haunt us and remind us of who we really are. Barricade would rather forget his past, but Prowl refuses to let it go.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Imperfections

**Rating:** T for violence and transformer language.

**Note: **This is an idea I've been tossing around for a while. It's about time I gave my other favorite Decepticon, Barricade, some spotlight time now that I've written Blackout's story. Also, my sincerest apologies for the really short prologue.

Lastly, I own nothing.

**...xXx...**

**Prologue:**

** ...xXx...  
**

Months had passed since Megatron's fall. By now, time was measured only by the periods of light that followed periods of dark. He had lost count of the days as he wandered the streets of an unnamed city, his chronometer informing him with indifferent accuracy that this much time had passed long after the numbers ceased to mean anything. What had gone wrong? Megatron should not have fallen. The Autobots were outnumbered, Megatron was more powerful than Prime, the Decepticons had even arrived on this world first. How had they failed? Why had they failed?

_Because the Autobots have something worth fighting for,_ the voice was soft, sleepy, distant. It was a voice he had thought would never trouble him again. And yet it stirred, here, now, in the wake of a battle where everything had been lost. _Because they have something they would die for...I'm so sorry, Jazz..._

The organic fleshbags watched him warily as he rolled by on their filthy streets. They feared him. Fear, authority, power, it was why he had chosen this form. Little good it did him now, but the small sense of familiarity managed to ease the burden weighing on his spark.

_That's not the only reason why you chose this form,_ said the voice, still soft but somehow closer. _You changed the words. You wrote 'To punish and enslave.' But at one time, you would not have changed a letter._

It was dark now, and he sped across an open, almost deserted stretch of highway with low, grassy hills illuminated by the moon and stars. Another unnamed city would be somewhere ahead. There was always another city. But it wasn't what he wanted to find.

'What do I want to find?'

_Home_? offered the voice. _You had a home once. Don't you remember? _Images flashed across his mind. Cybertron, a ship, faces, friends, partners, brothers. The visions glowed right behind his optics, and yet they felt so far away. How many vorns ago had he seen these things, or were they some trick concocted by the persistent, traitorous voice in his head? _No trick. I don't need tricks to remind you of what you have forgotten, of who you have forgotten._

'Not my friends.'

_Not your friends?_ asked the voice. There was a hint of dark amusement in its tone. _Are these your friends then? _More images appeared, this time of Shockwave and Megatron standing over him. He was strapped to a table as they did something to him...changed him. He saw himself screaming. _You would fight for them, but only because they hold your puppet strings. This is not where you belong._

Belong. Where did he belong? Not here. Not on this world. Not with Megatron. He had known this for some time. He had even fled the battle for the Allspark because he knew that something about this whole thing just was not right. He wasn't supposed to be here doing these things. It was made clearest when, as he pursued the Autobots, the voice he had long since thought dead spoke to him once again. He had tried to suppress it, but he found that he could not. It was a part of him, a lost part, an old part.

_Lost but not gone..._

He knew that if he admitted the presence of the voice, he would be killed. But, then again, there was no one left to risk admitting it to. His infiltration programming might not have been as sophisticated as Soundwave's, but he had gathered more than enough information. Starscream had fled at the first opportunity, and Megatron, Devastator, Blackout, Bonecrusher, Scorpinok, and Frenzy had all been ripped apart and had their corpses thrown into the oceans, sunk down into a place called the Abyss, a place he could not reach. He was alone on this world. There was no reason for him to be here.

_If there really was no reason, then you would be long gone by now,_ said the voice. _You would be back on Cybertron fighting for power rather than driving around in circles and scaring up the local petty criminals. You _know_ that there is something here for you. You just refuse to acknowledge it._

'And what use would acknowledging it be? Why would I care?'

_Because, whether or not you want to admit it, you still want to come home, _said the voice.

Home...home...

There were more images, more faces, more feelings. Home. He had thought that he had forgotten it.

_You did forget it, _said the voice. _But I didn't. I could never forget. They're all right there. They're all waiting._

The images were beginning to cloud his mind.

'Not my home. No.'

This wasn't right. And yet...

He made a sharp U-turn and began speeding back the way he had come. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he knew that it wasn't to the east. No. He was looking for something he had run away from, something he had left behind. His spark seemed to grow warm as he finally gave in to its guidance.

_I should remember to thank Bumblebee,_ said the voice. Even as it spoke, it grew stronger, closer. _If he hadn't fried your circuits in that electrical generator,you might never have remembered that I am not dead. You might never have remembered what you are, who you are supposed to be._

Barricade saw the lights of Mission City glowing ahead, beaconing him onward.

_Autobot Prowl._

**..xXx...**

Vorn: Cybertronian unit of time, roughly 83 years.


	2. Chapter 1

**Note: **I now present Chapter one. Hopefully the fast update will make up for the short prologue.

Also, I _still_ own nothing. Darn.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 1

**...xXx...**

_This is where he died, _said the voice quietly. Barricade slowed at the intersection and looked around. Some of the fleshbags standing on the sidewalk glanced at him strangely. He knew that his usually pristine paint was filthy from several months of neglect. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, the grit and dust were clearly visible. He turned into a nearby alleyway and parked, his holographic driver glaring darkly at passersby. There was nothing special about this place. Any debris that might have been here was long since cleared away. One of the buildings was still clearly damaged, but aside from that, this looked just like any other street.

'How can you tell?'

_His spark energy is still here. You can feel it if you concentrate. _

Barricade grunted and focused on the building directly across from him. There was something different about it. It wasn't anything his sensors could detect. It was more like an energy fluctuation within his spark, like his spark was trying to reach out and touch something, someone.

_Jazz...please forgive me._

Jazz. The name conjured an image of a small, blue-visored Autobot with a ridiculous grin. Somehow Jazz stood out as though his body radiated life and energy.

'Who is he to you?'

_He is my brother._ said the voice. _He is your brother too. We are one spark, after all._

Brother. The word evoked more images from the forgotten corners of his memory bank, but this time he heard snippets of conversations: Jazz telling him about the latest pranks he'd pulled, warning him to get his wounds checked with Ratchet, telling him to be careful, and then...

"_Prowl, they're coming up on all sides!" Jazz called across the roar of the energy blasters. _

_They were pinned down by eight Decepticons who were rapidly cutting off all possible escape routes. Prowl ran the scenarios through his battle program. Their long-range communications link had been knocked out, the other two Autobots in their group were already dead, they were out gunned, and their meager shields were getting ripped to pieces. This didn't look very good._

"_C'mon Prowl!" Jazz shouted, throwing a grin at his brother before using a well-aimed shot to disarm one of the Decepticons. "You've gotten us out of worse situations before!"_

_Prowl nodded, still thinking, still shooting._

_But Jazz was wrong. They'd never been in a situation this bad. Before, they'd always had other Autobots to count on for backup or had some environmental advantage to exploit. This time, there was no one to count on, no hidden tricks to save them. The only things they had were whatever they'd brought with them, and Prowl knew in his spark that it just wasn't enough. They were both going to die...unless..._

Jazz:_Prowl's voice was slightly softer than usual as he opened a private link. :_We have to fall back to the space bridge:

:I see three 'Cons blocking the way: _said Jazz. :_You got an idea:

:Lay low, and do not fire: _said Prowl. :_I will hook the hologram projector to my spark. If you put your dampening field up, they will only feel your spark through the hologram. An energy grenade should conceal any momentary discrepancy with their sensor readings. After I make the hologram, I will draw them away from your position. You head for the bridge:

:No way, Bro: _Jazz sounded unnaturally serious. :_I'm not leaving you here:

:Once you have gotten through, I will use the holograms to sneak out myself: _said Prowl, trying to exude his usual air of calculated confidence. _:But we have to do this quickly. If they get much closer, a hologram will not deceive them:

_Jazz looked as though he wanted to object further, but an energy blast clipped his shoulder, and he turned to return fire._

It is the only way, Jazz: _said Prowl. :_I will be right behind you. I promise:

If you're not, I'll come back and drag your aft home: _said Jazz. He grinned again, but somehow it was deadly serious._

I know: _said Prowl. :_Now use one of your energy grenades. They are getting too close:

_The resulting blast fritzed their scanners long enough for Prowl to make the switch. He watched Jazz duck low, hidden within the shadows and his dampening field. Prowl nodded once to his brother. The Decepticons swarmed him when he darted from the shelter, his energy guns blazing faster than even he could track, holographic Jazz watching his back with a manic grin. Prowl led the Decepticons away quickly, apparently heading for the better shelter of a nearby stone formation while the real Jazz made it to the space bridge, easily knocking out the sole Decepticon left to guard it and activating the bridge._

:Right behind me, right: _he asked._

I will be right behind you: _said Prowl. :_Now get moving already:

:I'll be waiting: _said Jazz. And then Prowl felt his brother's spark grow distant._

_Prowl sank lower into his position and let the hologram vanish._

I'm sorry, Jazz.

_Prowl felt the energy blast strike him in the shoulder. He flinched, but kept firing. Jazz didn't know yet that Prowl wouldn't be joining him. Prowl had always managed to find his way out of the worst situations, and his brother had no reason to doubt him this time. But what Jazz didn't know was that even Mirage couldn't have gotten out of this one. _

I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry that you'll be left waiting.

_Another blast nearly ripped his arm off entirely. He fell to his knees, but he kept firing. A moment later, another blast sent his energy gun flying from his hand. Two more caught him in the chest, and another landed on his back._

_Prowl saw the dire red words flash across his optics._Warning: Stasis Lock Imminent.

_The world around him seemed to fade as he fell._

I'm sorry, Jazz...Please forgive me...

"Brother," Barricade growled the word aloud. It wasn't one he could ever recall saying before, and it felt strange coming from his vocalizer. "Brother. My brother. Jazz."

_He was our brother,_ said the voice, and now it was laced with bitterness. _But he is dead now._

Barricade grunted.

'Dead brothers don't concern me. I should leave this world now while I still have the chance. It was foolish to come here where the Autobots might find me.'

_You still cannot feel it, can you? _the voice asked.

'I don't want to feel the remains of a dead 'Bot's spark.'

_Not that. _The voice sounded impatient now. _That_.

It was another moment before Barricade knew what the voice was talking about. Then, he felt it, and his spark leaped. It was the Allspark. The energy was faint, almost gone, but it was there. The source was some distance away, and yet even his scanners could detect the power building.

'But they said it was destroyed.'

_Then they were wrong._

Barricade activated his overhead lights and peeled out of the alleyway. The Allspark still lived. And he still had a job to do.

**...xXx...**

Sam stood at the Lookout facing the red sunrise. The hot July breeze swept over his face as he traced the edges of the Allspark fragment. He glanced at Mikaela, who stood off to his right, and then at Optimus, Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet who stood behind him in a semi-circle. And finally, he looked to where Jazz lay stretched out, his head turned to face the pale horizon. The small saboteur had been repaired by Ratchet, and now his body rested on a low metal platform with the dawn coloring the edges of his armor gold.

Bumblebee had said that Jazz would want to be reborn in style, and so they spent some time trying to come up with the best way of meeting this need. They ruled out having his rebirth take places where he'd died or landed because almost all of Mission City was crowded with alien hunters by now, and they couldn't risk having the Allspark's energy in the city. Mikaela tentatively suggested that if the place couldn't be significant, it might as well be beautiful. And so here they stood at the Lookout that had become their unofficial rendezvous point, waiting for the moment to bring Jazz back to life.

The air was charged with energy. Ratchet spent three months building a device able to manipulate the Allspark's power. Sam held the fragment of the Allspark, feeling it grow warm against his skin. His cell phone and iPod were in his bag at the base of a tree thirty feet away. The Autobots had to stand well back in case the Allspark's power leaped at them. Even as a fragment, with the device charging it, it could be dangerous to Cybertronians. Mikaela was also some distance away. Ratchet had warned that the power might not be entirely safe for humans either. He had asked Sam if he really wanted to do this.

"Jazz died protecting Earth," Sam had replied. "It's alright. I'll take the risk."

And now he stood, waiting for the power to grow strong enough to produce a spark. Once the spark entered Jazz's body, his memory banks and processor would alter the spark's energy, turning it into an exact copy of Jazz's old spark. He would be exactly the same, just as if he'd fallen asleep. He did look asleep, laying there with dark optics. Sam could almost imagine that he was just asleep.

"Sam, it's ready," Ratchet said quietly.

Sam looked down at the fragment in his hands. Small blue sparks raced across the surface, outlining the alien hieroglyphics with a pale glow. Slowly, he took the two steps to stand beside Jazz's open chest. There was a spherical object slightly larger than a basketball embedded in the center. It was his spark chamber. And it was empty. Sam held the fragment over the opening and slowly lowered it in. He flinched as the light exploded beneath his fingertips, almost dropping the fragment. But he held on firmly and squinted into the light.

Sam tightened his grasp as his hands began to burn. The sphere of light was taking shape within Jazz's chest. It was a mass of blue-white lightning held together by its own power as much as it sought to tear itself apart. Just when he thought he couldn't hold on any longer, the spark detached entirely. Sam pulled back and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The Allspark fell from his limp grasp, and Sam lay for a long moment with his eyes closed, the ghost of the lights from the birth of Jazz's new spark still winking behind his eyelids.

"Sam! Sam!" he heard Mikaela calling him, felt her hands on his shoulders. "Sam!"

"...Mikaela," he muttered sleepily, blinking at her slowly. "I'm fine."

"Ratchet?" Mikaela asked, apparently unconvinced.

"His readings are within recorded norms," Ratchet assured her. "He has elevated heart rate and blood pressure, but that is to be expected from the stress."

"Jazz?" Sam asked, turning to look at the mech.

"He has accepted the spark," said Ratchet. "But he will be off-line while his body reshapes the spark's energy."

Sam sat up slowly, his head swimming. He had to blink away the slight nausea. Mikaela watched him clinically, and reached out to touch his forehead. Sam winced at her touch.

"You've got a bit of a bump," she said.

The ghost of a smile passed across his face.

"I think I'll live," he said.

Ratchet knelt next to Jazz, his scanners monitoring the rapid fluctuations in Jazz's spark readings.

"He's almost ready," he said. "Can the rest of you feel that?"

The other Autobots nodded.

"Feel what?" Mikaela asked.

"We are all bonded to Jazz to some degree," said Optimus. "There are two ways for bonds to form. The first is when one spark splits to form two separate sparks: these are spark twins, and their bonds are the strongest. Spark twins can feel what is happening to each other and know where the other is located, but they're also very rare. The other bonds can form over time between friends and allies. Jazz has fought along side us for a thousand vorns. Our sparks have become sensitive to his. We could all sense when he perished, and now we can feel his energy being reborn."

"What does it feel like?" Mikaela asked curiously.

Optimus looked toward the sunrise thoughtfully.

"It's like feeling a second very small spark grow within my own," he said. "Its faint energy is masked mostly by my spark, but I can still sense it if I concentrate."

"I...think I get it," said Mikaela, sounding doubtful.

"He's online." Their attention turned back to Ratchet, who was fastening Jazz's chest armor closed.

Jazz woke with a jolt, blue eyes flaring to life behind his visor. He sat bolt upright and turned to look toward the sun, his mouth opening to form a word. But then he froze.

"Jazz, are you alright?" Ratchet asked, grasping his shoulder with one hand. "It's alright. The battle's over."

Jazz almost seemed to flinch at the words. He turned slowly to look at Ratchet.

"Oh...hey, Doc," Jazz's deep, cheerful voice was accompanied by his usual lopsided grin, but it looked strained. "Sorry, thought I felt something. What'd I miss?"

"Not much." Ironhide grunted, though his lips were curved in a small smile. "Just us kicking some Decepticreep aft into orbit."

"Aw man, I missed the real party, didn't I?" Jazz asked. "How long was I off-line, Doc? Megatron must'a hit me good. My memory banks are a bit fuzzy after he landed on me."

Ratchet was a long moment in answering.

"Jazz, you weren't just off-line," he said at last. "How much do you remember?"

"Megatron grabbed me, I shot at him, and then nothing," Jazz said, his grin fading slightly.

"Megatron...ripped you in half, Jazz," said Ratchet.

Jazz's optics widened.

"I survived that?" he asked, sounding morbidly curious.

"No, Jazz, you didn't," said Ratchet.

There was a long pause. Jazz looked around and saw the fragment of the Allspark where it still lay beside Sam. Very carefully, he reached down and took it between his finger and thumb, lifting it up to examine it more closely.

"What...happened?" he asked slowly.

"You have a lot to catch up on, Jazz," said Optimus, stepping forward. "Let's get you back to the base."

**...xXx...**

Barricade sank lower on his wheels, rechecking his dampening fields for the eighth time. From his vantage point hidden behind a leafy thicket, he could watch the movements of the Autobots and humans. He felt the Allspark's power grow, becoming more defined as it shaped a new spark. Barricade watched the human male place the spark in the waiting body: an Autobot, Jazz, his brother.

_Jazz..._

And then he felt it. At first it was just a faint warm glow arising in his spark, something familiar and new all at once. It was like being born again. And then there was pain. Barricade growled as his spark jumped and tried to wrench itself from the confines of his spark chamber. It wanted to burst out of him and join the Allspark's new child. With a small snarl, Barricade rolled back, trying to distance himself from his brother. It didn't help.

_Be patient, _said the voice. _It will be over soon._

He didn't know how long he wrestled with the feeling before his spark finally settled back into place, pulsing contentedly. Relieved, Barricade sighed. His spark felt different somehow, as though it were in two different places at once. He was suddenly keenly aware of the Autobot laying several hundred feet in front of him.

_We are bonded, _said the voice, sounding pleased. _I can feel my brother again._

'That hurt,' Barricade growled mentally.

_That was nothing compared to what I felt when Jazz died, _said the voice. _But you would not know that. We were still two separate beings at the time. I do not think you even noticed when his spark faded._

Barricade felt Jazz come online, and to his horror, the Autobot looked directly at where he lay hidden in the trees.

_He can feel us too._

Barricade's spark froze.

'No! If the Autobots find us, they will turn us into scrap. Break the bond!'

The voice almost seemed to sigh.

_You are correct, _it said. _But I will not break it. I will just...conceal it._

Barricade was suddenly only aware of his own body again. He sighed with relief when Jazz finally turned away and spoke with the other Autobots. Quietly, he rolled back and fled the area. This was too dangerous. Now there were five Autobots here, and he was still alone. He should leave this world.

_We are not going anywhere, _said the voice.

'You want to die?' Barricade asked.

_Leave then, if you think you can, _said the voice. _You felt it as strongly as I did. Even concealed, the bond is still there. And, like it or not, we are now tied to Jazz. But even before we were bonded, you wanted to stay, because you knew there was something here for you, something you had lost and wanted to reclaim._

'I don't care about your brother!'

_Our brother, _corrected the voice. _And if that were true, you would have fired your canon at the Allspark while it charged. The resulting explosion would have killed all of the Autobots. _

To this, Barricade said nothing. He only continued to drive down the winding road away from the Autobots. When he found himself wandering the streets of Tranquility, he stopped.

"What am I supposed to do?" He spoke aloud.

_Wait, _said the voice. _Jazz felt us when he woke, and he has a knack for getting into trouble. He will find us eventually._

"And then?"

Barricade could almost feel the voice smile.

_We will just have to find out, won't we?_

**...xXx...**


	3. Chapter 2

**Note: **I can offer no excuses for the horribly long delay in updating apart from a really really bad case of writer's block. But now that I've finally managed to finish it, I present chapter two. Enjoy.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 2

**...xXx...**

_Prowl came online slowly. His processor functioned haltingly, sporadic signals bombarding his data processor in a meaningless jumble of static and color. The lights above him burned his overly sensitive optics, and he had to shutter them against the glare. Through the veil of white noise, shapes and images, sounds and feelings, began to register more clearly. It took some time, but finally, his battle programing activated, and the whole world shattered into instant clarity. The sudden onslaught of sensory input was almost enough to short his systems again, but Prowl was programed to process vast quantities of information quickly._

_He was currently in a large room with various medical and scientific equipment laid out on a table beside the berth. The walls were lined with neat rows of bottles and boxes. The cabinets were all closed, and the counters were clean and orderly. To his left stood a rack with a grisly assortment of mech body parts. This place looked like a bizarre cross between Ratchet's med bay and Wheeljack's lab. The air temperature and pressure suggested that he had been transferred on board a ship. His sensors also indicated that his body had been immobilized below the neck by a suppression field._

_How had he gotten here?_

_His memory banks were fuzzy. It took him a moment, but finally he found his last recorded memory. It was of sending Jazz to safety on the space bridge and drawing the Decepticons to his position. He had been shot at and sent into stasis lock._

"_Autobot specimen online."_

_Prowl turned his head slowly and focused on the figure entering the room. It was a dark purple Decepticon holding a data pad. He stopped beside the table of strange implements and purposefully made another line of notes before putting the pad down and carefully choosing two items. Prowl noted that they looked suspiciously like torture devices. He narrowed his optics. It was only then that his memory banks produced a small piece of dire information. He had heard of this Decepticon. His name was Shockwave, and he was the maniac behind the Decepticon's latest underhanded tactic: reprogramming Autobots to become Decepticon slaves. It was a fate no Autobot had ever recovered from. It was a fate no Autobot prisoner had ever escaped._

"_Whatever you attempt to do to me, I will overcome it," said Prowl simply. He would not, could not, become a Decepticon. He would die before he allowed it to happen._

"_All resistance will be in vain," said Shockwave just as calmly. He reshaped his hand into an energy scalpel and pried open Prowl's chest armor. Prowl tested the strength of the suppression field, but it held fast. He couldn't even bring his fingers to twitch. Then, Prowl's auditory receptors caught the faint sounds of heavy footsteps, and he turned his head to see Megatron enter. A sharp smirk crossed the Decepticon leader's faceplate._

"_Has the prisoner been prepared?" he asked, his raspy voice nearly dripping with smug malice._

"_Affirmative," said Shockwave. "All necessary materials are accounted for. Procedure may begin immediately."_

"_What will you do?" Prowl tried to keep his voice neutral, but a hint of wariness crept in under his tone._

_Megatron barked a short laugh._

"_Soon you will be my loyal servant, Autobot," said Megatron._

"_Never."_

"_You don't have a choice," Megatron sneered, leaning over his captive. "Shockwave will wipe your memory banks clean and rewrite your core programming. When you wake, you will remember nothing of your former existence. You will be my slave."_

"_I will find a way to defeat your control," said Prowl. "I will not surrender easily."_

"_I will enjoy watching you fight," said Megatron. "And I will enjoy watching you fail."_

_Prowl's only response was a sudden scream of pain as Shockwave inserted the scalpel into his spark._

**...xXx...**

Barricade came online with a jolt, almost transforming on the spot.

"What the slag was that?" he growled.

_Another memory, _said the voice. _My last memory, to be more precise. _

Barricade snarled.

'You and your memories,' he thought. 'You and your brother. It would almost be worth it to go to Shockwave to get rid of you.'

_Shockwave is not fond of having his experiments fail, _said the voice. _When they do, he rarely fixes them, but rather chooses to destroy them. I am not worse than death._

'How did you survive, anyway?' Barricade asked. 'I don't know of any other Decepticon convert that's had this problem, though I doubt they'd advertise it if they did. Why couldn't Shockwave destroy you?'

_I had something that Shockwave never accounted for, _said the voice. _I had the bond with Jazz. When Shockwave erased my memories, he only managed to destroy what was within my body, but memories are shared over the link between brothers. So long as Jazz lived, my memories did also._ _But they lay dormant between bodies, not quite within me, and not quite within him. Only when Bumblebee fried your circuits in that electrical cell did my memories have the opportunity to resurface. And when they returned, so did I. Just in time, too. If Jazz had died any sooner, we would both have perished._

'Yeah, lucky me,' Barricade grumbled. 'I get the pleasure of a dead Autobot living in my head.'

_Technically, you are living in my head, _said the voice.

Barricade could only grumble.

**...xXx...**

Barricade raced down the highway, deftly avoiding a blue sedan. He was currently engaged in the high-speed pursuit of a suspected murderer and carjacker. Barricade glided gracefully around the other police cars, their sirens shrieking and their lights flashing red-blue warnings to get the innocent drivers off of the road. More than a week of tense waiting had left the Decepticon on edge, and so it took only minimal prodding from the voice for him to join in on this little piece of action.

His radio chatted continuously with updates and warnings. Barricade sped around an eighteen wheeler and spotted the bright red Mercedes Benz. It swerved to avoid an SUV and darted around a semi. Two other interceptors were trying to flank the stolen vehicle and cut off its maneuverability, but a gunman appeared in the back window with an assault rifle and fired a spray of bullets at his pursuers. One of the interceptors veered to the right, a spiderweb of broken glass appearing across its windshield. Barricade didn't pause, and instead slipped smoothly its vacated position, flanking the vehicle along with the remaining police car.

The gunman appeared again, aiming his weapon at Barricade. But before he could fire, Barricade's engine roared and he slammed into the Benz's rear bumper. The gunman lurched to the side, and the rifle was knocked from his grip. It fell and shattered against the pavement. Barricade smirked inwardly and rammed the red vehicle again, making it swerve dangerously. A moment later the gunman appeared again, holding a second weapon. He didn't pause to aim, but several bullets managed to bury themselves in Barricade's hood.

Barricade growled and shot forward. This time his blow sent the car swerving back and forth as the driver overcompensated to the left and sent the vehicle careening into the support of an overpass. The car made a spectacular wreck. It didn't burst into flames like in the fleshbag's movies, but metal parts exploded everywhere and the mangled body was gruesome enough to deserve a second look.

Barricade's smug amusement lingered even as he parked some distance away and watched the other police cars swarm the crash. The driver and gunman were apprehended. Both of them were removed from the scene with the aid of a medical carrier. Though he wanted to get closer and share in the aura of victory, Barricade kept his distance. And when two police officers began to approach him, he backed up and rolled away.

He drove down the highway unhindered, feeling content for the first time in months. The voice was oddly quiet, not bothering him with unwanted advice or commands. Besides, Barricade was quite pleased with the small reminder of his power and supremacy. As the night began to fall, Barricade's scanner informed him of more troubles with the fleshies. He waited for a moment before making a quick U-turn and speeding off toward the trouble. The voice didn't tell him to go.

It didn't have to.

**...xXx...**

"Alright Jazz, you're in the clear," said Ratchet. "I don't want to see your aft back in here unless you're missing both legs and carrying your own cranial unit."

Jazz nodded and hopped from the low berth in the med bay. As he left, he grinned and waved at the ill-tempered medic, who only grunted moodily.

Jazz had spent the past two weeks catching up on the events of the past three months. He explored the new Autobot base and the surrounding terrain, getting to know the small crowd of humans that had been accepted into their group. He'd even made friends with the human called Epps. The dark-skinned soldier's personality meshed easily with Jazz's, and Jazz found the man to be an endless resource of humor and cultural enlightenment. Everyone was so happy to see him up and functioning again. He accepted their well-meaning comments and lightly teasing jokes with his usual grin and quick wit.

But there was something wrong with him, something different within his spark. It felt strange, as though Prowl were nearby. When he first woke, he was sure that his brother was standing just beyond his line of sight. But then the feeling passed, and there was only the dull ache of a bond half-broken. It reminded him of the day he lost his brother and of the many vorns he spent looking for him.

He had lost track of the time. What was it? Eight hundred, nine hundred vorns ago? Longer? Every time he thought of it, his spark ached as though the wound were fresh.

Optimus had been there when Jazz had lost Prowl, but he and Ratchet were the only ones of Jazz's current group who knew that Jazz had ever had a brother. Jazz had never told anyone about his loss, about how he felt as his brother was tortured and broken, transformed into a Decepticon and set to do Megatron's bidding.

When the report came that Prowl had been captured, Optimus had ordered Jazz to stay behind when the rescue mission was planned. Optimus said that he was far too emotionally involved, that he couldn't afford to let his bond cloud his judgment and endanger the rescue operation. At first, Jazz fought the command, even going so far as to pull his gun on his superior. It was all the proof the Autobot leader needed to convince Jazz that he was right. Another mech took him to the brig to wait. But even in his youth, Jazz was programmed for espionage and, as such, had little trouble escaping from the confines of the cell and shadowing the rescue team.

He saw first-hand how the mission failed. He watched his brother's off-line form being borne away by Shockwave and a smaller Decepticon. Three seekers had appeared and two Decepticon ships had landed, pouring forth more Decepticons. The whole battlefield was alive with gunfire and energy blasts. Jazz followed the retreating scientist but a plasma bomb exploded to his right, knocking him to the side. Just as he stood up, a drone exploded from the ground and shot him in the back of his leg, ripping into the sensitive components. He fell, turning to shoot the small drone before it could vanish into the ground. Jazz tried to stand, but another plasma bomb exploded, this one even closer than the last. One of his optics was badly damaged, but he could see that the Autobots were falling back. The last thing he remembered before going into stasis lock was that if someone didn't stop Shockwave, he would never see Prowl again.

He woke up in Ratchet's med bay several joors later. Said mech shouted reprimands at him for at least half an orn before running out of insults and caustic remarks about his stupidity. But Jazz barely heard a word of it. His bond felt strained with such a vast distance between himself and Prowl. He wanted to leave to find Prowl as soon as his legs functioned again, but Ratchet called in two other Autobots to guard him and make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

The next three orns were the worst in his life. The distance between their sparks muted the agony Prowl endured, but it only served to strike home how badly he was being tortured. Jazz felt his spark burn with anger and fear, knowing that at any moment his brother's spark could fade entirely. Ratchet told him later that in those three orns Jazz made exactly two hundred and forty seven escape attempts, and eventually his guard detail was raised to five mechs. But at the time Jazz wasn't aware of any of this. His processor was fogged in a sort of crazed delirium as he felt Prowl's spark cry out to him.

He came out of it slowly as he felt Prowl's pain subside. But there was something different in his brother's spark. It was so faint that he had to concentrate just to feel its existence. The part of his own spark that was usually filled with Prowl's awareness was painfully empty. It took almost a vorn for his processor to stop constantly logging it as an error. But even then the ache didn't fade. Optimus didn't have the spark to punish him too badly for his actions, though he was not allowed in open combat for almost half a vorn, and even then he was under strict orders not to pursue his brother.

But Jazz never stopped looking for Prowl. When he was given solo missions to infiltrate Decepticon bases, he stole information, trying to uncover the fate of his brother. It took him almost thirty vorns before he even knew his brother's new name. Barricade. Jazz dug deeper, uncovering more information about exactly what had happened. With every new fact came a new sense of hopelessness and despair. As hundreds of vorns passed, he began to doubt that Prowl even existed anymore. Twice they met on the battlefield, and twice Jazz was defeated and damaged into stasis lock. Few knew about the weight on his spark and fewer knew its cause. He had had enough practice to keep his secret. But now, here, on Earth, his facade and his sanity were starting to wither.

Bumblebee was the first to notice that something was off. Apart from Jazz, Bumblebee was the most empathetic of the Autobots and could detect when something wasn't sitting well with his comrades. But Jazz was a saboteur and specialized in concealment and deception, and soon even Bumblebee's worries were abated. It felt wrong to hide himself like this around his friends. He trusted them all implicitly. But this was something he felt he had to work out on his own.

So when Ratchet declared him healthy and all but kicked him out of the med bay, Jazz's first action was to volunteer for patrol around Tranquility. Bumblebee offered to tag along, but Jazz was spared coming up with an excuse when Sam reminded him that he'd promised to take the two humans to a dance.

It was just after nightfall when he felt his spark grow warm. Unbidden, Jazz turned on the next street and drove into an old warehouse district with few lights and no humans. Jazz stopped in a large intersection and transformed, the full moon making his chrome armor shine in the darkness. Right on cue, a Saleen police car rolled up and transformed twenty feet away. Jazz folded his arms and let an ironic grin pass over his face.

"Prowl," he said simply.

The other cybertronian merely grunted, his red optics glaring caustically.

"You found me."

**...xXx...**

Barricade wasn't sure what to do. His core programming demanded that he shoot the Autobot where he stood, smiling stupidly. But Prowl was urging him to step forward and say something. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. These doubts were for lesser beings. He was a Decepticon warrior, and his brother, Jazz, was an Autobot. He should kill him.

Barricade raised his arm and powered his canon. The 'Bot stood still, weapons systems conspicuously dark.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Jazz asked calmly.

"Are you going to defend yourself?" Barricade retorted.

"No."

Barricade hesitated before lowering his arm. The canon powered down with a soft hum.

"Prowl--"

"My designation is Barricade," Barricade growled. Jazz chuckled softly.

"But Prowl's in there somewhere," he said.

"How can you tell?"

"You didn't shoot me, did you?"

Barricade grunted.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "Nah, I guess not. You never needed me to point out the obvious, just the things you already know but hope aren't true."

"Is there an answer in there, Glitch?" Barricade growled.

"Yeah. I want my brother back."

It was Barricade's turn to chuckle, though his tone carried a dark humor.

"You think it's that easy?" he asked scathingly. "What did you expect? That you would see me and I would magically become your brother again? That I would walk up to Optimus Prime and rejoin the Autobots? That they would accept me with open arms?"

"You never stopped being my brother," said Jazz calmly. "Not that anyone else would ever claim your pompous aft. You've just been too much of a glitch to admit it. You were an Autobot once, and I know that Optimus would accept your return. The others would too, if you just gave them time. I could help you. I will help you."

'Why am I doing this?' Barricade thought. 'I can't do this.'

The voice was a moment in answering, but when it spoke, it sounded different, growling, darker.

_Stop whining, _it said. _I don't want to hear it anymore. You. Do. Not. Have. A. Choice._

Barricade bristled.

'What is wrong with you?' he snarled inwardly.

The voice was another long moment in answering.

_I'm becoming a part of you, _it growled, albeit more softly. _And you are becoming a part of me. Are you so oblivious that you hadn't noticed it before?_

Barricade felt his spark clench. Thinking back, he _had_ noticed it. The voice had spoken less and less since the bond with Jazz was recreated, even once going a whole day without speaking. And yet Barricade found himself doing things the Autobot would have told him to do anyway.

He didn't want to believe it, but he knew it was the truth.

Barricade transformed in a flash and peeled out of the intersection. Jazz called after him and transformed as well, but Barricade smothered the bond and vanished into the night. This wasn't what he wanted. He wouldn't allow himself to be consumed by the dead Autobot within his spark. He was a Decepticon warrior. He was merciless and cruel. He was Barricade.

But even as he told himself these things, Barricade could help but realize that his spark ached with Jazz's absence.

_Don't worry, _said the voice calmly. _We will see him soon._

It was a mark of how badly things had changed that Barricade couldn't even bring himself to respond.

**...xXx...**


	4. Chapter 3

**Note:** I present Chapter 3. Enjoy.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 3

**...xXx...**

The room was quiet, almost dead. It was dark save for the glow of a single monitor. Words and images flashed across the screen far too quickly for most mechs to track, the light's reflection dancing rapidly across the deep purple armor of a lone Decepticon. Shockwave leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled delicately before him as his optic absorbed the flow of information.

**Soundwave to Shockwave.**

"Shockwave reporting."

**Arrival to the planet designated Earth in .2548 joors. Are preparations for project Infestation complete?**

"They are," said the scientist. "I will, however, require five joors to acclimate the drone's bodies to function to full capacity within the planet's atmosphere. The vast quantities of biomass present will hinder their efficiency when carrying out their designated task."

**What is the current percent efficiency of the drones if no alterations are included?**

Shockwave paused to do the calculations.

"Ninety two point seven nine five percent," he said. "Efficiency can be raised to ninety nine point nine nine nine eight percent with the proper modifications to programming and design."

**You will be given five joors to complete the drones.**

"I will begin immediately," said Shockwave, standing and activating his personal data pad. The information on the monitor vanished and reappeared on the hand-held device. Shockwave strode over to the observation deck and stood at the edge of the high platform. Below him stretched a room that should have been far too vast for the ship to hold. In this room lay Shockwave's latest pet project. Ten thousand drones sat hooked into the ship's computer, their fiery red optics looking like a sea of red stars in the half-darkened room.

Megatron had always been brash, always too ready to launch into a fight he wasn't prepared to win. The mech was a master of fear, but he knew no strategy when things had turned in his favor, and he often let the little things overpower him. But now that the former leader of the Decepticons had perished, Shockwave was prepared to take command and finish what had been started.

But first, he needed to make sure his pets were prepared.

**...xXx...**

_Your attempts to eradicate me will all fail. _After it's brief tantrum with him over Jazz, the voice had reverted to its usual composure. But Barricade was beginning to note the subtle, almost indistinguishable variations in tone the voice used when it spoke. Right now, it sounded exasperated, amused, and chiding all at once. Somehow, this new skill annoyed the Decepticon even more than the voice itself. But even worse, the voice had started talking more, seeming to be roused from its previous silence by Barricade's actions. _If Shockwave cannot destroy me, then neither can you._

This didn't stop Barricade from picking through every line of code in his programming trying to find bits of information to delete. He'd already tried to sever the bond with Jazz, but however that was done, the voice wouldn't say, and Barricade had a sneaking suspicion that the voice wouldn't allow him to even if he knew.

Barricade had driven all the way to LA where he was near enough that his bond wasn't strained and far enough away that Jazz wouldn't find him without help. He was sitting in a wide alley of a quiet neighborhood. The darkness had long since settled over the city, and few people were out. Barricade didn't even bother with a hologram, instead allowing his peripheral systems to track and log the movements of any fleshbags within a two block radius. He would need all of his concentration to figure out his latest problem.

There were only a few things that Barricade knew for certain about the connection between himself and Prowl. They shared the same spark, they shared the same bond with Jazz, and they shared the same shell. But their thoughts remained distinct and separate no matter how much the Autobot tried to convince him that they were becoming one. And if their thoughts remained separate, then Prowl must be a part of his programming. So, logically, if Prowl was merely a part of his programming, then could be suppressed without damaging their spark. Barricade would find a way to replicate Shockwave's experiment.

_No matter how much your emotions have affected me, logic is still my greatest strength, and you are mangling it horribly, _said the voice. _Perhaps a brief reminder might serve a purpose here._

Barricade snarled as a memory surfaced, so real that his engine roared as he tried to thrash away from the pain. An image appeared behind his optics. It was Shockwave using various tools to dig into his spark and processor. He felt the needles of agony piercing every sensor node with fire. But as quickly as it came, the memory was gone.

_It took him three orns to finish the procedure, _said the voice softly. _If you think that there is a button or switch somewhere in your CPU that you can use to turn me off, then you are sorely mistaken._

'There is a way,' Barricade thought wildly. 'There must be a way. I will not become you!'

_You are not the only one experiencing discomfort, _the voice remarked. _Your emotions and your anger cause great interference with my logic circuits and produce conflicting sets of objectives._

Barricade snarled as he closed one file and opened another, digging even deeper into the code, shredding anything that looked suspicious.

_Be careful not to do anything that damages us both, _said the voice. _You are becoming careless._

'Don't tell me what to do.'

"Help! Please. No. STOP!"

Barricade didn't know how the scream had bypassed his peripheral systems, but, having heard it, he did a quick scan of a street a short distance away. A young human female was surrounded by three human males. The femme held her arms up against her chest protectively while two of the males circled around behind her.

"Here, just take it!" she shouted, throwing a small bag at the unmoving third male. He caught it easily. The femme tried to dash around them, but the second male caught her.

It was a moment before Barricade realized that he'd rolled out of the alleyway and started creeping toward the street where the fleshies were located. He couldn't see them yet, but they were right around the corner ahead. Barricade paused before reaching the corner. The voice hadn't compelled him to go. It was sitting quietly in the back of his consciousness, observing his movements. Barricade didn't want to think about the implications of what acting on his own might mean. Helping the fleshy femme would defeat his whole reason for coming to this place.

"See, that wasn't so hard," the third male said suddenly. "But we're not done yet."

Barricade didn't want to think about what he was doing, so he didn't. Activating his lights and sirens, he roared forward. The three males were gone in a flash, having darted farther down the narrow alley and split up at the far side. He didn't follow. It would take more time and energy than Barricade was willing to give to hunt them down. That was the fleshy police's job, not his.

Letting his sirens wind down and the lights fade, Barricade rolled back, pausing as the femme raised her hand to shield her eyes against the glare of his headlights. She had gotten a cut across her forearm at some point, and red organic plasma dripped down along its length.

"Th...thank you," she called, stepping forward.

Barricade started to roll back again, but the femme threw up both of her hands.

"Wait!" she shouted. "Please!"

There was no reason for him to obey her command. But that didn't change the fact that his tires stopped moving. The femme stepped off to the side so that she wasn't standing in the direct path of the headlights, and began approaching him on the driver's side. She stopped three feet away and let out a small gasp. It was only then he remembered that he hadn't bothered with a hologram. Barricade's engine rumbled and he moved back another few feet before the femme called out to him again.

"Wait!"

The scene would probably look absurd to an outsider. The small, defenseless femme approaching him, a murderous warrior, and him backing off like a frightened sparkling. It was this mental image that forced him to stop and growl. The sound made the femme flinch. But she still didn't flee.

"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You're one of...those robots...from Mission City?"

Barricade made a sound roughly equivalent to a grunt. The femme swallowed visibly.

"M...my name is Fiona," she said. "What is your name?"

He stayed in stony silence for a long moment before growling his reply.

"Barricade."

**...xXx...**

Jazz knew that he wasn't acting entirely normal. Even his talents could not hide his growing anxiety and uncertainty anymore. He'd searched every hideout and scanned every vehicle in Tranquility and Mission City. He actively sent out surges of energy along the spark bond trying to get a response from Prowl. But no matter what he tried, nothing seemed to help. Prowl was gone. He'd gone somewhere Jazz couldn't follow. It was a bitter moment when Jazz finally realized that his brother had been within his grasp and that he'd let him slip away. If-no when he caught Prowl again, nothing would make him let go. Even if he had to break both his arms and legs and _drag _him back to the Autobot base, Jazz would manage to bring him home. Somehow.

It was almost a week before Jazz finally caught a break.

"And it's seven o'clock," said the cheery voiced femme over the radio. "Time to get up and get out'a bed. We'll start you off with some celebrity news this morning. On Thursday night, Fiona Darling, daughter of famed movie mogul Kenneth Darling, was assaulted in downtown LA only to be rescued by, and I quote, her 'guardian angel.' Apparently she was saved by one of the alien cars who helped destroy Mission City. Police investigation has determined that no drugs or alcohol were present in her system at the time of their interrogation..."

There was no reason for Jazz to think anything of the news report. Thousands of such reports had been made over the past two months ever since their arrival had become known to the general public. Even if most of them told stories of evil alien robots, there were enough about good robots that it shouldn't have been conspicuous. It was a slim chance, he thought. Prowl could have gone anywhere, and Barricade wouldn't want to draw attention to himself. If the Decepticon was controlling his brother's body, he would want to hide from the Autobots and harm the humans from the shadows. If Prowl was in control, he wouldn't have fled from Tranquility and Jazz

This was all very confusing, and a problem Jazz would have readily handed over to Prowl to solve if Prowl wasn't the root of his troubles in the first place. Jazz knew that his logic circuits just weren't designed to handle the annoying conundrum that embodied his brother, let alone his brother turned Decepticon.

There was no telling where Barricade-Prowl had gone let alone what he would do. But something about that newscast bothered him. Maybe it was the way his spark seemed to warm with a sense of familiarity. Jazz sent a quick message to Optimus Prime asking for leave to explore some of the cities beyond Mission City.

:_It would be better for you to wait_: said Optimus over the link. :_Tensions are too high at the moment:_

_:Optimus, if the 'Con's can't catch me, then neither can some crazy organics: _said Jazz confidently. :_Don't worry about me:_

Optimus sighed heavily.

:_I know you can handle yourself, Jazz: _he said. :_Just don't become careless:_

That was one of the other things that bothered Jazz as he sped down the highway. At first, none of the humans knew what to think of the events that took place in Mission City. The government's initial story of a rogue fighter pilot going berserk was so weak that it had fallen apart almost instantly. The second story about a terrorist attack was more believable, and, before the actual witnesses could get their stories out, it was widely accepted as fact. But unfortunately the government couldn't keep hundreds of people quiet about what they'd seen. A few people claiming to have seen "giant alien robots" could have been overlooked. Hundreds people claiming to have seen the giant alien robots could not. Eventually the public put two and two together and the whole thing became a disaster of epic proportions.

It started out with the first wave of Alien Hunters-the thought still made Jazz laugh-but quickly deteriorated into something far more sinister. The second wave was from a fringe group of religious fanatics claiming that the Autobots were the devil's tools and that they needed to be destroyed. Dozens of churches were staging rolling protests at any alleged sighting of a cybertronian and many more were shrieking their message of hate and fear across the radios, televisions, and internet. The third wave was the worst yet. A surprisingly large faction of the American public was frightened and angry at the sudden incursion of extraterrestrials into their country. Some of the more vocal members were stirring up things in a most spectacularly violent way. Jazz had watched footage of a Human Fair where they ripped, shredded, and crushed dozens of cars and machines, screaming that they would do the same thing to any Autobots they managed to catch.

Jazz had talked to Epps about this, and the soldier had frowned with an unusual amount of gravity.

"Things are going to get worse before they get better," he said. "They always get worse. Just look at this country's history, and you'll see what I mean. But don't worry. They'll get used to the idea. You're the good guys after all, and they'll figure that out eventually. You might need to make a lot of noise and shove the idea down their throats, but once they're done griping about it, they'll stop fussing and turn their prejudice toward someone else."

But whatever chaos had been produced within the boarders of the United States, it was nothing compared to the global impact of their arrival. Every country wanted to meet them. Every person in power wanted to know what they could do. No one outside of the US wanted them to stay there, and frequent demands had been made for them to move to some isolated neutral territory. Optimus had taken one look at Antarctica, the proposed location of their new base, and told the representatives in no uncertain terms that the Autobots were subject to no such demands if the US didn't go along with it, and only them because they were currently playing host to the newcomers. But since the Secretary of Defense and the President had already offered a dozen plots of land for the Autobot's sole use and development, eviction wasn't very likely. There had been threats of course, war, trade embargo, and other assorted political nastiness, but Optimus's arrival at the UN had silenced most of the more outrageous protests and threats.

It was times like these when Jazz was very glad to have Optimus as a leader. He just had a talent for cooling hot tempers and making reasonable negotiations that didn't leave everyone walking away too unhappy, which was more than could be said for most of Jazz's former commanders. And, as bad as things got, somehow they managed to stay outside of Tranquility despite its relatively close proximity to Mission City. There was just something so sleepy and lethargic about this place that demanded outside troubles stay outside. Jazz felt they were lucky to have found this place.

Humans were a strange species, interesting and complex and sometimes even amazing, but very strange. Jazz hoped that the news he'd just heard didn't attract too much attention. There were supposed sightings everywhere on the face of the planet, but this one just felt different. The woman had decided not to mention anything about the car that had saved her, claiming that she didn't want people to start trying to hunt him down. For this, Jazz was grateful. He knew what he was looking for while the ill-intentioned humans did not.

If Prowl thought that he could run and hide, Jazz would just have to remind him of how persistent he could be.

**...xXx...**

The first reports came and were dismissed much like the others. Sightings were written off as mind-tricks and jokes. Damaged cars and houses were written off as poorly disguised attempts to collect insurance. Proof was cast away along with the shrunken alien heads and blurry videotapes of Bigfoot. Nobody believed the stories of smaller robots with glaring red eyes that popped out of the ground or swooped out of the skies to attack isolated farms and towns only to vanish like they'd never existed. It was only later when a Russian soldier managed to shoot one down that the governments of the world got the proof they needed.

Things had finally gotten worse.

**...xXx...**

After rescuing the femme, Barricade conceded that fighting the inevitable would be useless. He began patrolling the streets of LA, scaring up the local criminals and tagging along during high-speed chases. It seemed to work well for the first three or four days, but then things started to change. He knew about the tensions between the fleshies and the cybertronians. He'd witnessed a few small scale riots where the fleshies went around destroying cars and trucks they suspected of being transformers. Barricade always broke this violence up by roaring into the center of things with his lights flashing and his sirens blaring. Since there were never more than fifteen or twenty humans, he'd never have any problems.

But then the fleshies started looking at him strangely as he drove down the street. When he stopped at a red light, they would whisper behind their hands, and some would duck into buildings. This might not have been too disturbing, he was a police vehicle after all, but for the fact that his sensors caught the words "evil" and "alien" with disturbing frequency. And if Barricade had had any lingering doubts, they were instantly abated when ten fleshies caught him at midnight near the alley where he'd saved the femme.

"Hey, _Copper_!" shouted the one holding a long metal pipe. "Why don't you come on out'a your car? We wanna have a little chat."

The malicious grin he gave was less than reassuring. Three of the males had made a makeshift roadblock at each end of the street, obstructing all possible escape routes. Barricade growled lowly, and his hologram driver glared daggers at the youth. Hologram interaction was always tricky, but it was one of the skills Barricade had developed over the vorns. When he spoke to the fleshies, his voice seemed to come from the man sitting in his driver's seat.

"Get out of my way," he barked.

"Get out of the car!" one of the others shouted. There was a chorus of "Yeah!" and "Get out, Alien freak!" Barricade snarled again, more audibly, and a few of the fleshies stepped back in alarm.

"Get it!" shouted the leader, brandishing his blunt weapon but making no move of his own. "Get the alien scum."

Hesitantly, some of the males stepped forward, each raising their own weapons.

'What do you have to say about this?' Barricade demanded.

_Just don't hurt them too badly, _said the voice. _The other Autobots would take it as an act of aggression, even if it is made in self-defense. _

'Perfect.'

Barricade's transformation was so abrupt, it was like an explosion of parts shifting and rearranging all at once. And then he was standing, towering above the fleshies, his clawed hands outstretched and red optics burning with rage. As he glared down and the stunned humans rooted in place, he was pleased to see their looks of cocky superiority vanish in an instant.

"Hello fleshies," he growled, his words echoing slightly in the narrow space. "Was there something you wanted to _say _to me?"

"Oh my god," whispered a bony femme.

Barricade chuckled.

"My designation is Barricade," he said. "But calling me God is a good way to stay alive."

_Aspirations of divinity, Barricade? _the voice asked. _I never knew._

Then the fleshies started screaming. It was interesting to watch them flee. They ran in a panic, bumping into each other, running over each other, leaving the slow ones behind. Some fled to their cars, but most were throwing their keys into the gutter and taking off on foot, still screaming. Within a minute, the whole street was empty. Barricade's transformation back into his alt-form was slow and graceful.

'We can't stay here,' he thought at last. 'The fleshies recognize us now. How did they know?'

_It no longer matters, _said the voice. _This place is hostile. Leave immediately. _

'This is what I get for following your lead,' thought Barricade, rolling out of the alley and heading toward the highway entrance. 'I get a mad mob of fleshies trying to bash my hood in. If this is the reward they offer for my help, then they can die without it for all I care.'

The voice seemed to hum thoughtfully.

_All is not well in this place._

'What makes you think that?' Barricade asked sarcastically.

_There is no moon._

At first Barricade didn't know what he was talking about, but then he turned his scanners skyward.

"Primus..."

He couldn't count them all; there were so many. Drones. Thousands of them, tens of thousands, so many the pale moon flickered and vanished behind the black swarm. Their energy signatures were Decepticon.

_I think that the humans are the least of your worries now._

**...xXx...**


	5. Chapter 4

**Note: **Sigh. AP exams are so stressful, and I'll be glad when they're all over. I know that I should really be spending all of my time studying, but I just wanted to put this chapter up since it feels like forever and a day since I last updated. Enjoy.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 4

**...xXx...**

Finding a single car in a city as overflowing with cars as Los Angeles was like trying to find a glitch mouse in a gestalt. Four days of relentless searching had yielded nothing, and Jazz was beginning to suspect that Barricade had either moved on or switched alt-forms. The fact that he had to dodge several attempts by the humans to verify his alleged humanity didn't help things either. He had almost given up hope when his spark finally reacted.

The fluctuation was so small it was almost undetectable over the dampened bond, but it was there nonetheless. And even if the brief flare of energy couldn't give him an exact location, the general idea was enough to send him off in the right direction. As he set his scanners to a higher setting, they caught something that he did not expect. Jazz screeched to a halt and transformed in the middle of the road. There were screams as the humans saw him and tried desperately to flee, but Jazz didn't pay them any mind. Above him, a cloud of drones was descending on the city, and from their glaring red optics, they weren't here to sample the local culture.

_:Jazz to Optimus: _said Jazz, opening the comm link to the Autobot leader._ :We've got a little problem down here in LA. You might want to get here quick:_

**...xXx...**

"Slagging fragged up son of a glitch," Barricade growled. "What kind of half-fried, scrap heap pit-spawn would let something like this happen?"

Barricade was roaring down the highway, weaving around the other madly speeding cars trying to escape from LA. The swarm had descended on the city like a black wave. Barricade watched the vast amounts of damage they were inflicting. The buildings were lit with the glow of flames, which cast a sickly orange light over the black buildings and darkened sky. Even as he watched, two skyscrapers buckled and fell as hundreds of drones tore them apart. It was time for him to get out. This wasn't his responsibility.

_I would have thought you would be quick to rejoin the Decepticons, _said the voice.

'Megatron maybe,' thought Barricade. 'But Shockwave's insane.'

The voice snorted.

'Alright, more insane,' Barricade amended. 'And I know it's him, because no one _but _him could come up with a plan as insane as this.'

_Given my current set of data, the likelihood of an Autobot victory is less than thirteen point seven two four percent._

'And I would care because?'

_Because we are still an Autobot._

'_You_ are an Autobot,' thought Barricade. '_I _am still a Decepticon. Are your memory banks fried?'

_Helping people is better than cowering in the shadows or playing the pawn of a maniac, _said the voice. _You want to help them._

'Oh yeah, because jumping into the Pit for some slag-headed Autobots is the pinnacle of my ambitions and dreams,' Barricade growled. 'Besides, those wretched fleshbags are in that city, and they're getting what they deserve.'

_What they deserve? _the voice asked. _They less than you, Barricade._

A white hot flame erupted in his spark, and Barricade nearly swerved off of the road as needles of pain ripped through his entire frame. He slammed on the breaks as his optics and sensors rippled with white noise and static. He snarled once before the pain suddenly receded.

_What the slag was that? _Barricade asked, suddenly unnerved by how faint and distant his own voice felt. And then his spark constricted as the voice spoke to him...using his vocalizer.

"The Autobots will need my help," Prowl explained. He pulled off of the highway smoothly and made a tight U-turn, heading back toward the burning city. "I refuse to let them down."

_You can't! _Barricade shouted. _This is my body._

"No, this is my body," said Prowl. "And you've overstayed your welcome."

Activating his lights and sirens, Prowl raced back the way he had come. Almost immediately, his scanners caught five drones shooting at the fleeing cars.

_You'll get us both killed!_

Not even pausing to stop, Prowl transformed, bounding over a minivan to shoot two of the drones in quick succession. The other three broke off their attacks to focus on him. Prowl rolled behind a copse of trees growing beside the road. Lasers and gunfire soon shredded his scant shelter, but he was gone, firing as rapidly as his battle programming would allow. He couldn't afford to miss while the humans were still nearby. The three drones dropped out of the sky, their smoking shells clanging loudly against the pavement.

Barricade thrashed against the 'Bot's hold on his body, trying to wrest control back of even a finger. But Prowl's grip was like iron rings binding every gear and circuit to his power.

_You're not supposed to control my body, _Barricade snarled. _You'll get our aft shot off!_

'Have some faith in me,' Prowl thought, transforming again and rolling onward. 'I am not defenseless.'

_No, just incompetent enough to get caught._

Prowl magnanimously chose to ignore that statement as he caught sight of two more drones tearing apart a small human dwelling. A femme stumbled out the front door clutching a human sparkling in one arm while trying to shoot a rifle in the other. Her aim was wild, and she nearly fell down the front steps as the drone swiped at her from the air.

Prowl was already transforming, but his shifting seemed to stutter as Barricade made another wild grab for control.

"Stop!" Prowl snarled, landing on the grass too heavily to be graceful. He raised his arm and fired on the drones. They fell out of the sky, not fast enough to retaliate.

'You're lucky these drones are not equipped for real combat,' Prowl thought. 'If they were, we'd be dead. But their strength comes from their numbers, not their abilities. Now stop fighting me.'

Transforming again, Prowl rolled back onto the road. The femme and sparkling were already fleeing from him. He couldn't blame them. In this war, it was hard to know who was on what side.

_Do you think I'm going to blithely roll to my death because some glitched Autobot wants to save a few fleshies? _Barricade demanded. _There are over six billion of them. A few dead ones won't matter. This isn't my responsibility._

'If that were true, then why did you help them in the first place?' Prowl asked. 'Was it your responsibility to keep a murderer from fleeing, or stop those robberies in the city, or help that femme escape from those males?'

_Those things were your doing, _thought Barricade. _I would never do something so..._noble. He spat the word as though it were a curse, and tried to wrench some sort of movement from his body. His frame might have twitched, but it was far from what he wanted to accomplish. Slag the Autobot, slag his nobility, slag his power.

'You're wrong,' thought Prowl. 'They were _our_ doing.'

Barricade watched as a swarm rose up before them, at least a hundred drones together. Prowl's transformation was the fastest yet, but Barricade didn't make another grab for power. As he watched the Autobot leap and dodge while firing with incredible accuracy, he couldn't help but think that this was why Shockwave had tried so hard to capture Prowl.

He was a cold terror that put shame to any Decepticon's hot anger.

**...xXx...**

It was only minutes after Jazz's message when the reports began to appear on the internet and in news stations. Optimus read through the mass of information quickly. There were drones attacking eighteen major cities all over the planet, and though he knew that humans tended to overestimate numbers, there had to be at least half a million of them. Some shaky video footage from Tokyo showed five drones constructing a sixth from the ruins of a building. The Decepticons were attacking the cities to kill people, but also to gather parts so that they could replicate. And if the soon, it wouldn't be long before they destroyed all human cities.

**...xXx...**

He was alone on an alien world fighting impossible odds to save an alien race from destruction at the hands of the Decepticons. Prowl was in his element. Battle programming that had not reached its full potential for almost nine hundred vorns worked in overdrive as Prowl fought his way into the thick of the invasion. Drones fell by the dozens as the tactician pulled out ever increasingly complicated maneuvers to dodge the hail of enemy fire.

As he made it deeper into the city, his advance slowed to a mere crawl. The buildings provided invaluable cover for him, but also allowed the drones to circle behind him and pin him down. And worse than that, for every drone he killed, ten more seemed to appear, and though he returned the damage one hundred fold, Prowl had been hit on the upper left arm and lower left leg. The waves of drones were advancing in a suicide dash on his position, and Prowl's battle programming told him that they would overrun barrier in less than a breem.

_We're going to die, _thought the Decepticon morosely. _But if we somehow manage to survive this, I'm going to kill you._

Just as five drones clawed their way over the makeshift barrier Prowl had erected, an explosion blossomed to his right, throwing the light-weight 'Cons to the ground.

"We're not going to die," said Prowl calmly, still firing. Then he lifted the weight on the bond. Prowl suddenly became aware of Jazz as he practically flew into the fray, a canon in each hand laying down cover fire for his brother. Prowl allowed himself a small smile as he opened a private link to Jazz.

:_I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it: _he said.

:_And leave you with all the fun?: _Jazz asked, skidding to a halt beside Prowl. :_Naw! Besides, you need someone to make sure you don't get scrapped: _

:_My counts have one thousand two hundred and forty seven kills: _said Prowl._ :Did you get a reading on how many your plasma bomb destroyed?:_

_:'Bout a hundred: _said Jazz._ :But I've been shooting them the whole way over here and set off five other bombs, so I've got about a thousand kills. You sneeze on these things, and they die:_

_:I'll write that in your epitaph: _said Prowl blandly as the next rush of drones nearly made it past the barrier._ :'Turned into a pile of slag because he couldn't sneeze.' Keep shooting. We'll need to fall back soon and find some place that's more defensible:_

_:You got anywhere in mind?: _asked Jazz. :_I'm kinda new to these parts, and it'll be a little while before the others show up. We might get some air support soon, though:_

Prowl was silent for a long moment as he ran the possibilities. Most of the best places were too far away. But there was one building he liked the look of.

:_Here: _he said, transmitting the coordinates. It was a fairly large structure with a low, broad entrance and thick walls. They could set up a fairly good position and wait for backup. Prowl especially wanted Ratchet to look at Jazz a moment. His brother was leaking energon from a cut in his neck, and by now it was flowing down the curves of his silver armor in a steady stream. :_We'll alternate cover fire. You leave first. There's a good position about a hundred yards behind you:_

_:No way: _said Jazz. _:Fool me once, shame on you. You're not going to fool me twice. So, you go first, and I'll lay down the cover fire:_

Before he could respond one of the drones slammed into Prowl's chest, sending his aim wild as the little 'Con started to rip apart his armor. Jazz paused to shoot it before turning back to the main throng.

:_Go now: _he said.

Prowl's systems were flashing warnings at him. The drone had clipped his main energon line and ripped into some of his delicate circuitry. Ratchet would have to look at him too...if he didn't shoot him first.

:_Alright: _he said at last. :_I'll be there in a moment, so don't try to hold this position for too long:_

Prowl clapped his brother on the shoulder before turning and racing toward the next position. The drones swarmed him as he made the run for it, but Jazz was a good shot, and Prowl only had to knock out a few before diving behind the overturned semi and newsstand.

_:Your turn:_

It took Jazz another moment before he could break free, but then he was making a mad dash over the open street to where Prowl knelt, firing at the drones. Just as he was leaping over the barrier, a drone managed to shoot him in the leg. He fell with a heavy thud beside Prowl, but was up and shooting in an instant.

:_Your turn: _said Jazz.

But just as Prowl was preparing to make his run toward the building, a fresh wave of drones appeared to their left. It was a cloud of metal so thick that Prowl couldn't see the flaming buildings behind them.

_:I hope you have another plasma bomb: _said Prowl. :_Otherwise, I don't think we can make it against that: _

_:Yeah: _said Jazz. :_I've got one plasma bomb left:_

_:Use it now: _said Prowl. :_We'll have to make a run for it together:_

Jazz's only response was to hurl the bomb at the approaching mass and take off at a surprisingly fast sprint in spite of his damaged leg. Prowl was on his heels a moment later, firing to the left while Jazz aimed at the right. They made it into the building just as the bomb detonated, shattering all of the windows and setting off an alarm. Prowl was knocked to the ground. But even as the flames curled through the air in the street, more drones appeared and began swarming the entrance.

:_These buggers just don't know when to quit: _said Jazz. He was now leaning heavily against a column, unable to support his own weight. Prowl's own systems were beginning to shut down from lack of energon. This wasn't looking good.

:_My counts now have about five thousand dead drones total: _said Prowl, bracing himself against a nearby pillar and shooting at the advancing Decepticons.

:_Sounds about right: _said Jazz. He was still shooting, but his movements had become sluggish. :_What'd you say to making it an even ten by the time the others get here?:_

Prowl wasn't given a chance to respond as more explosions erupted from the outside.

:_We have air support:_

In moments, no more drones were appearing at the entrance, and Prowl lowered his weapon. He could hear the sounds of jets flying low, and he could see sporadic fireballs exploding in the street. Hopefully the humans would have enough sense to stay inside and out of the way. But for now, Prowl had other things on his mind.

:_I know some basic field repair: _he said. :_Let me have a look at your neck. Keep watch for more drones:_

Jazz nodded, slumping down against the pillar.

:_Just make sure you look at yourself too: _said Jazz, tilting his head to give Prowl better access to the wound. Prowl knelt beside his brother and began mending the line. It didn't take long, and soon he was sealing his own substantial leak.

"Prowl?"

Jazz's voice echoed strangely in the large room. Prowl looked up.

"What is it, Jazz?" he asked.

Jazz's lips quirked in a small smile.

"It's good to have you back."

And then the world was agony.

**...xXx...**

Barricade didn't know what to do while the Autobot held control of their body. He sat tensed in the back of their mind, not wanting to hinder Prowl as he fought to stay alive but also not wanting to lay down complacently and let the Autobot win. But when he and Jazz made it to the safety of the building, Barricade breathed a proverbial sigh of relief. They were safe. He had almost calmed down when his back exploded in white-hot pain.

"Ironhide!" he heard Jazz shout.

The other Autobots. Slag.

To his surprise, Prowl said nothing, and their body fell forward with a loud clang. Barricade tried to move his fingers, and found that they reacted readily to his command. He moved his hand, and found that that was working too. Then he was on his feet and running, two more canon blasts following him as he ducked into the street. He transformed with a screech of tortured metal and peeled out of the alleyway.

'Prowl?' he asked. There was no response. The Autobot wasn't dead. Barricade knew that much. But he had been damaged somehow. His voice was an indistinct presence in the back of his mind. Barricade snarled and sped out of the city. All but a few of the drones had been dispersed. Thank Primus for small favors. If he could avoid the Autobots, then there wouldn't be anyone to stop him. And he had made a promise after all.

Barricade opened a link on the Decepticon frequency.

:_Decepticon Barricade, reporting:_

:_Ah, Barricade: _Shockwave responded almost immediately. :_I was wondering whose signal my scanners were detecting:_

_:Shockwave: _said Barricade. :_There's something I need you to do for me. There's something I need you to get rid of...:_

As Barricade explained his problem to Shockwave, he knew the risk he was taking. But it would be better to die a Decepticon than to lose himself to the Autobot living inside of him. It was better to die whole than to fade as though he never existed at all. That would be a fate even worse than death.

**...xXx...**

Breem: Cybertronian unit of time roughly equivalent to 8.3 minutes.


	6. Chapter 5

**Note: **Sorry for my too-long break, but here's a little update. I'm not entirely sure if I'm resurrecting this story or if this is just a relapse before another extended no-fanfiction-writing period.

As a side note, this fic differs greatly from Traitor in that the drones have no personalities of their own. They are just extensions of their master. Kind of like remote controlled toys but with much better technology. Also, for stealth missions where a connection might be detected, the drones can be programmed to carry out a designated task on their own.

**...xXx...**

**Chapter 5**

**...xXx...**

Shockwave analyzed the data streaming in from the 15,218,007 drones now swarming over various land masses. The Autobots now knew what was happening. They were scrambling to try and hold back some of the drones, but most were too far away for them to do anything. This was expected. This was good. While the drones kept them busy, Shockwave was ready to implement the next part of his plan.

He strode over to where a pair of red optics set deep in a small, skeletal frame stared blankly at the far wall. Shockwave inserted the special core imperatives into the shell through a neural link. The drone's systems hummed as they accepted the data.

The drone stood up and exited the lab.

**...xXx...**

"You must admit that this is quite a story," said Optimus doubtfully.

Jazz nodded.

"Primus fraggit, hold still!" Ratchet snapped.

Jazz stopped moving lest the good doctor decide to hit him on the head with something. He was sitting in the same building where he and Prowl had taken shelter from the attack. Optimus was standing before him while Ratchet knelt by his side, welding some of the fissures in his leg. Ironhide lurked near the door and Bumblebee stood guard over the small cluster of humans that now seemed to accompany them wherever they went.

"I know it's hard to believe, but I know it was Prowl," said Jazz. "Even when he was Barricade, I could tell that he was Barricade and that Prowl was buried deep down. But when I saw him again, and when he opened our bond, I could feel that Prowl, the old Prowl, was the one in control. I _know _that it was him."

"If he was an Autobot, why did he run away?" asked Ironhide gruffly.

"You shot him."

Ironhide merely grunted, his canons spinning slowly.

Sam looked out into the street thoughtfully.

"If he really is Prowl, then he might try to come back again, right?" he asked. "And then you could find out if he's telling the truth?"

"It is...not that simple," said Optimus. "But there are certain options we have that could help to verify his claims."

"Like what?" Mikaela asked. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"After Shockwave began converting Autobots into Decepticons and releasing them back into our ranks, we developed certain methods to detect them," said Ratchet. "Usually, we can find the programming that indicates a Cybertronian's faction. However, the process is highly invasive, as it entails entering the very core of the subject's processor. He would have to lower all of his fire walls and expose his most vulnerable components to the ultimate scrutiny. There are no secrets when such a procedure has taken place."

"Oh," Mikaela muttered.

"He'll do it," said Jazz softly. "I know he wants to come back. You just have to give him a chance."

"And we will give him that chance," said Optimus. "No, Ironhide. No objections. If there is even the slightest possibility that he is still an Autobot, we owe him that much at least."

"Good," said Jazz. "Now we just have to find him."

**...xXx...**

"Your difficulties are most intriguing, Barricade," said Shockwave, pressing several buttons on the scanner in his hand. They were standing in Shockwave's lab while the scientist ran a quick series of diagnostic exams over Barricade's battered body.

"Can you get rid of him?" Barricade asked.

"The problem should be simple enough to eradicate," said Shockwave. He put down the scanner and tapped two more buttons on a nearby counter. The floor to Barricade's right folded open, and a berth rose up from its hidden compartment. "Lay down."

_What have you done? _The voice sounded faint and drowsy.

"How long will it take?" Barricade asked. He felt the voice reach out and nudge for control of their body. But Barricade kept his hold firm. "I want to begin as soon as possible."

"Of course," said Shockwave. "Lay down. I will need full access to your systems while I make the necessary alterations."

_You fool._

"You still haven't told me how long this will take," said Barricade.

"I am uncertain of the exact time required, but the procedure should be fairly straightforward and will not take much time," said Shockwave dismissively. "Now, lay down."

_You fool, _the voice repeated. _You can't trust him. He'll kill us._

Barricade felt the voice make another weak grab for control, but he once again held firm. It was possible that the voice was right, that Shockwave would rather see him dead than fixed. He watched the scientist stand motionlessly several feet away, looking as though he were patiently waiting for Barricade to comply. But there was a tension in his stance that he didn't like at all.

"What exactly are you going to do?" he asked.

"I will eliminate the personality designated 'Prowl' from your processor," said the Decepticon calmly. "It is what you have asked me to do. But I cannot begin until you lay down."

_Don't lay down. Once you're helpless, he'll kill us both..._

"If you do not want this procedure, then the door is behind you," said Shockwave. "Otherwise, lay down."

Barricade hesitated only a moment longer before lowering himself onto the berth.

"Good," said Shockwave.

A suppression field flared to life at Shockwave's unspoken command, binding Barricade to the berth. He tensed and tried to push against the paralyzing field, but not even a finger twitched. Shockwave pressed another series of buttons and another table appeared, this one containing an array of instruments, some of which were sickeningly familiar.

Barricade felt traitorous second thoughts creeping into his spark, but he smothered them quickly. Whatever Shockwave intended to do to him, he would accept it, because no matter how bad it may seem, it wasn't worse than living with an Autobot controlling his body.

Shockwave carefully opened the armor over Barricade's chest and set to work.

**...xXx...**

It was a familiar torture, but that didn't make it any less horrific. Prowl heard Barricade scream. Or maybe he was screaming. It was hard to tell. He ran the scenarios through his battle programming, but even before he viewed the results, he could guess at what they would say.

There was no hope.

Prowl was not an Autobot who was discouraged by the lack of hope or else he would have accepted the lure of insanity or death. Hope and no hope were emotions, things that dictated the actions of others, others like Barricade. And had Barricade been aware enough to process the data, it might have affected Prowl too. But Barricade was otherwise occupied, and Prowl was above that. He turned his programming away from survival and to escape. No possibilities were forthcoming. He then turned it to sabotage. Again nothing. He ran through every scenario he could think of to alter his situation, applied thousands variables, and reworked each situation with different parameters.

Even as he worked, he knew that this was exactly how he'd spent the three orns of his previous life. He also knew that no matter what he did, there was no chance of survival, escape, or retaliation. He had but one hope. Only one.

His spark clenched at the thought. He knew how much it had hurt Jazz the first time. And the first time it had proved useless. If he was going to die a second time, he couldn't do that to Jazz. Not again. And yet the fact remained: if he wasn't rescued, he would cease to exist.

_Only for a short time. Only a slight opening. Just enough for him to know where I am. He will feel my pain, but I will smother the bond before I die. If he can find me, there is a chance. He is my last chance._

Prowl opened his bond to Jazz.

**...xXx...**

Jazz felt the pain instantly. His whole body convulsed with the sudden agony burning through his bond with Prowl. He'd been trying to sense his brother so hard that even the slightest opening was magnified a thousandfold. Jazz quickly dampened his own spark, and the pain subsided. He shuddered, rebooting all of his sensory programs. He knew what that pain was, knew it with a terrible familiarity.

Prowl was dying.

Jazz did a quick passive sweep of his quarters and the hallways outside. Sensor networks had been activated in the walls and Bumblebee was standing as a casual guard in the rec room, which happened to be the only exit from the recharge area. They didn't want him hunting for Prowl on his own. They thought he would just get himself killed. They wanted to wait or maybe send a futile rescue mission. Jazz wasn't Prowl, but he could guess at how well an overt attack on a Decepticon space ship would go. No, this had to be quick, subtle, and most importantly, soon.

Jazz rose from his berth and planned his escape route. A small smile twitched across his face plate. Bumblebee was an excellent scout, but as far a pure sneakiness went, he was no match for Jazz.

**...xXx...**

"There are too many of them," said William Lennox firmly. He stood in front of the holographic display. There were angry red blobs sliding over the North American and Asian continents. They looked and moved like clouds, but everyone in the room knew what they really were.

"Well we already know that," said Secretary Keller. "What do you propose we do about it?"

"There are really three options," Lennox continued. "The drones generally stick together in swarms, so we can try to nuke each and every one of them." He paused. "But since they self replicate and are drawn to populated areas, we can't do that without killing several billion people. And there is a risk that we might miss some of them. If even one escapes, it has the chance to build a new swarm, and then we'd be in the same situation."

"Great, so no nukes," said Simmons. Lennox wasn't sure if the disappointment in his tone was because he was sorry one of their three options was now gone, or because he wouldn't get a chance to use the most powerful weapon in Earth's arsenal.

"The second option is to meet them head on in a fight," said Lennox. "These things aren't very well made, and they're made out of Earth's materials, so even we can kill them pretty easily. But again, there are a lot of them, and if we miss even one, we're dead. These things can outlast us because they can always come back and rebuild. A hundred deaths, ten thousand deaths, a million deaths don't really hurt them that much. But deaths on _our _side hurt a whole lot. Besides that, we'll have to coordinate with every Earth government on the face of the planet and combine military networks. You'll be stuck with enough international incidents to keep you busy for the next century, but it might, and I stress this, it _might _work."

"'Might' isn't a word I like to hear when the fate of the planet is at stake," said Keller. "Lennox, give me something else, something that will work."

"There is the third option," said Lennox slowly. "If we can pull it off, then we'll win, but it's probably the most dangerous plan of them all."

"Just tell us what to do, and we'll do it," said Epps.

"We know that these drones are just empty shells being controlled by one computer," said Lennox. "They will die as soon as their master dies, just like that scorpion thing when we nailed the chopper. We know that their master is called Shockwave, and we know where he is. He's sitting in orbit somewhere around the moon. Now, if we take out Shockwave, we take out the drones. All we have to do is find a way to get into orbit without him detecting us, find out exactly where his ship is even though it's hidden in I-don't-know-how-many cloaking systems and shields, attack it, get inside, get around the internal security systems, and kill the scientist and whoever else happens to be on board."

"Oh is that all?" Simmons asked dryly. "And here I thought you wanted us to do something difficult."

"The Autobots have been helping NASA perfect better space ships, and Ratchet is already working on outfitting three of them with stealth cloaks and high grade propulsion systems," Lennox continued, ignoring Simmons. "Of course, the ships can only hold four people each, but the Autobots don't need ships to travel through space, and they're the ones who'll be doing most of the fighting. I will be heading the human part of the mission in Razor 1. I need eleven other volunteers."

Lennox paused and looked around the room.

"So, who's coming with me?"

**...xXx...**

The steady stream of curses coming from the good doctor had finally died down. Ratchet hadn't been very happy when he'd been told that he had to completely refit three earth space shuttles for the mission in less than four hours, and he'd been even less happy when Bumblebee discovered that Jazz had escaped.

Poor Bumblebee.

After a long lecture which consisted almost entirely of variations on the same declaration: 'If I need to mend those damaged sections _again, _I'm sending you both to the Pit as scrap metal' Bumblebee was enlisted as Ratchet's sole assistant for the refitting project. Ironhide was working on setting up various scanner beacons around the country so that the military could try to keep the drones in check while the Autobots did their work in space. Optimus had also vanished into the lower decks so that he could access the sensor array uninterrupted. He needed to find out the basic makeup of the space ship if they wanted any chance of navigating through it. To do that, he just had to crack their shields for _one _moment, and he would have most of the information he needed.

They couldn't leave until they had the information, so Optimus worked diligently. He wished that Jazz hadn't decided to go in search of Prowl now, but he couldn't really blame him for it. Bonds between twins were too strong to allow for anything else. He just hoped that Jazz would be back soon. Jazz could have cracked these codes in ten minutes flat. As it was, it would take Optimus another four hours at the earliest.

Optimus hoped it would be soon enough.

**...xXx...**

"Sir, the President,Vice President, and Cabinet have been taken to their bunkers," said the aide. Secretary of Defense Keller's staff had been hand picked for their competence and ability to stay calm in difficult situations, but there was still a hint of fear behind the aide's eyes. Keller couldn't really blame him for it.

"Good," he said. "And the national defenses?"

"All troops have been deployed, all foreign bases are on high alert, and the reserves are mobilizing," said the aide. "I have the numbers here along with projected time tables."

Keller took the papers and scanned them. "Good," he repeated. He knew that his job wasn't to win this war. That was the job of a few special, chosen people and five-no four Autobots. His job was to hold down the fort while they were gone and to give them as much ground support as was possible. He just needed to keep the earth from going up in flames while they worked.

"Send out the emergency broadcast," he said. "I want it on every news station and radio station. I want it plastered all over the internet. Email it, text message it, send it off by Morse code. I want people shouting it from the rooftops. Just make sure everyone gets inside somewhere safe and stays there. Whatever happens, we don't want another death toll as high as Mission City."

"Yes Sir."

To his credit, the aide's voice was even. As he walked away, Keller looked around the room. He was lucky to have a staff as good as this one. They were afraid, yes, and they were anxious about the risks they might have to take in order to protect the country, but they were doing their jobs. No one flinched. No one ran away.

"Get your fighters in the air, General," said Keller. "Protect our cities at all costs."

**...xXx...**

It was a quiet thing, so quiet that not even the Autobot's sensors could detect it. It was designed with this special mission in mind. It crept through the halls and doors, searching, searching, searching, scanning, scanning, scan--

**OBJECT LOCATED.**

**Energy signature: match.**

**Mission objective: switch from PRIORITY 1: LOCATE to PRIORITY 2: CAPTURE.**

The drone slipped through the door and into a highly guarded area of the base. Had it been aware, it might have thought that the lack of any life, cybertronian or otherwise, was odd. It might have speculated as to where everyone had gone or even done life scans to ensure that someone was not about to return. But it was only a drone, and these things were not within its ability.

It analyzed the gaps in the security system, gaps for the little humans to pass through so that they wouldn't accidentally trigger the alarms. Had the drone known anything about the usual workings of security systems it might have been amused or disgusted by the confidence and bravado displayed by these unorthodox alterations. But it was only a drone, and these things were not within its ability.

It wound its way through those paths until it came to stand beside a coded containment area. Inside, the energy from the object hummed gently. The drone cautiously accessed the system and maneuvered through the firewalls, evading the elaborate traps wired into the systems until he found the correct access point. The door hissed open, and the energy became more pronounced.

**OBJECT CAPTURED**

**Mission objective: switch from PRIORITY 2: CAPTURE to PRIORITY 3: RETREAT.**

The object transferred safely into a compartment in its chest cavity, the drone left the way it had come. Had the drone's maker been more thorough in its design, it might have had the awareness to close the containment area door or plant a devise capable or mimicking the object's energy. But it was only a drone, and these things were not within its ability.

So when Bumblebee returned to the main control room one last time before heading into space, he knew immediately what had happened. The Allspark fragment had been stolen.

**...xXx...**


	7. Chapter 6

**Note: **I cannot believe that I've been gone for three years. It seems like I only stopped writing this a few weeks ago. Anyway, I don't like leaving projects unfinished, so I'm here to stay at least until I get this story done. It's three years late, but here is the first chapter in my new set of updates.

Also, for anyone curious about my long absence, I've been writing original fiction, and I've just self-published a fantasy novel on Amazon's Kindle, which is amazing on so many levels. :D So, here is Chapter 6 of Imperfections. Enjoy.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 6

**...xXx...**

Jazz had always thought of life as a melody where every person was a different tune. They all mixed together to form a complex strand of music that stretched from eternity on outward. Out in space where Jazz drifted all alone, he could almost hear the music swell to a crescendo. This was a good thing.

Jazz had never liked the boring parts.

Shockwave, Jazz noticed, was not a mech who took security lightly. The mazes of firewalls and webs of trap programs proved difficult to navigate. It took him almost twenty earth minutes of careful dissection before he was able to access the system core. He didn't mind the wait too much, however. There was a lot at stake in this mission and he couldn't risk getting caught. If that required a little extra time, then he was willing to work with it.

But despite the delay, when Jazz broke into a computer, there were no secrets it could keep from him. Even so, he didn't charge in right away. The feel of Prowl's agony begged him to move as quickly as possible, but Jazz had learned many things over the vorns without his brother, and rushing into a dangerous situation unprepared was one of the impulses he had learned to control.

_:Prowl, can you hear me?:_

There was no response.

_:Prowl, if you can hear me, I'm coming for you. I'll be there soon. Don't worry.:_

Jazz didn't know whether Prowl could hear him or not, but he hoped that his message had somehow gotten through. It might have been a malfunction in his systems analysis, but he thought he almost detected a glow of warmth over their bond. Jazz shuttered his optics and ran the data through his battle programming. It was a far inferior model to Prowl's, but it did its job well enough. And if its plans fell short much of the time, Jazz was always an excellent mech for improvisation.

His programming produced a viable plan after a few breems. Jazz examined his downloaded map and where it orbited in relation to the moon. There were several weak points in the ship's design despite the obsessively thorough nature of the computer system. Jazz couldn't help but feel mildly annoyed. If he had been given this as an ordinary mission, he might have said that it was beneath him. Honestly, breaking in here would be almost as easy as sneaking around the humans. Even the smallest bit of flair would be enough to get him through. But this wasn't an ordinary mission, and so Jazz merely frowned, analyzing each pathway carefully.

There was something different about the design, some fundamental alteration that he couldn't quite pin down. Jazz hated when these sorts of things bothered him, because the answers to those questions always occurred to him a moment too late. But either way, he couldn't sit here waiting forever. Prowl's spark called to him. And he wasn't going to keep him waiting.

**...xXx...**

Shockwave was interrupted in his work by a warning flicker in his security systems. An intruder had been detected. Calmly, Shockwave put down his tools and walked over to where his data pad lay on a side table. He examined it. Someone was trying to access his security system. They weren't doing it very well, but they had managed to penetrate surprisingly far into the network. Given another few hours, they might even have succeeded. Shockwave brought up his virus program, and inserted it into the network. It would seek out and destroy anything it came in contact with, including the processor of a cybertronian. But Shockwave hesitated. He didn't hesitate often, but this was one time when his second thoughts took hold. The chance of their success if they chose to attack the ship, as was obviously their intent, was minimal, but even so, he could use this opportunity to test his newest pets.

Shockwave deactivated the virus and entered another part of the network. Doors to labs and cages throughout the ship hissed open, and their occupants, dormant or chained for too long, crawled out. Then Shockwave removed the more difficult barriers in his network so that the hacker would not have as much trouble. Shockwave returned to where the Decepticon Barricade lay prone on the berth. His head lolled to the side, his red optics flickering dimly as a low crackling moan escaped his metal lips. Shockwave set back to work at once.

The Autobots would no doubt try to assault his ship, and they would soon discover that it was not entering this ship that was the hard part, it was getting back out again.

**...xXx...**

Jazz was still connected into the network when he felt the change in its design. He waited until the alterations were complete before slipping back through the maze of code. What he found made him uneasy. Almost all of the most challenging firewalls and security measures that had taken up his time were gone. The defenses had been stripped to little more than a bare minimum. This could only mean one thing. Somebody wanted the Autobots to get into the system, and they wanted them to do it quickly.

Could it be Prowl? Could he have found a way to access the system and take it down to help facilitate his own rescue? No. That was impossible. Jazz was sure that Prowl would have done something more direct like turn the weapons systems on Shockwave or upload a virus to fry the entire system. So, that meant that the only other person who could have made the changes was Shockwave himself.

Jazz felt a hint of dread grow in his spark.

Another moment of observation revealed the reason for the sudden change in security protocols. There was someone else trying to access the system. It took Jazz a breem to identify the familiar signal. Optimus Prime might have been a talented warrior, but this job was too far beyond his hacking abilities. And if Shockwave's changes remained unnoticed by the older mech, then he was bound to walk right into a trap.

_:Hey Big Bot: _Jazz sent to the other Autobot

_:Jazz?: _was the startled response. _:Where are you? Are you in trouble?:_

_:No, but you're about to be: _said Jazz. _:Shocker just rearranged his computer system to let you in. The Con has a trap set up for you. Watch your head for a virus.:_

_:And you?: _Optimus asked.

_:I'll be fine: _Jazz assured him. _:But watch out for yourself. I'll send you any useful bits of intel I get. For now, you should just get out of the computer system. Leave the hacking bits to me:_

Optimus hesitated.

_:I should order you back to Earth: _he said. _:You shouldn't be there at all:_

_:I wouldn't be able to obey those orders, Optimus: _said Jazz, sounding genuinely sad. _:You know I won't come back, so don't give me an order you know I can't follow:_

_:Alright: _said Optimus, sounding resigned. _:Just so you know, we're coming to help. Don't do anything stupid before we get there:_

_:Wouldn't dream of it, Big Bot: _Jazz laughed even he felt Optimus's presence vanish from the computer system.

He logged all of the important information he'd pilfered and sent it as an encrypted data file over the Autobot link. That done, he chose a direct infiltration route from the map and set his course through space to get there in twenty breems. It would take the Autobots too long to reach the base, and Jazz just didn't have that much time. And when it came between Jazz doing something stupid and Jazz sitting back waiting for backup while his brother died again, well, that wasn't really a choice at all.

Jazz filed away all of his information and set a course for Lower Deck 32. There wasn't anyone to stop him from saving his brother this time. And this time, Prowl would come home.

**...xXx...**

Shockwave was taking his time while trying to diagnose the reason behind his failed Decepticon conversion. The Autobot Prowl had a fairly short file because most of the information about him had been destroyed after his rebirth as the Decepticon Barricade. It wasn't very much to go on, and so Shockwave set it aside to instead analyze the readings coming from the mech on his table.

Isolating the two personality matrices within the single spark was exceptionally difficult. Personalities were born from the patterns in a cybertronian's spark coupled with memory datafiles and personality codes programmed into a mech's core system. The break seemed to occur because the two personae had different memories and personality codes. They would have to because Shockwave had personally destroyed everything about the Autobot and rebuilt him from scratch, even going so far as to manually rework the patterns of his spark into something more servile and militant.

Shockwave juxtaposed the data he had retained from his first conversion of the Decepticon Barricade. Both the datafiles and personality codes had become corrupted with two completely different sets overlapping and conflicting with one another. This would normally have just driven a mech insane, jumping from Decepticon to Autobot with no rhyme or reason, but instead this mech had formed to distinct, separate personalities that were able to talk to and communicate with each other. And, if Shockwave's data was correct, they could even withhold information from one another. There was also a certain amount of bleed-over between the two of them from the corrupted files, but even that could be fixed with enough time and patience. It might take an orn or so, but Shockwave was certain that he could ferret out all of the offending Autobot data and let Barricade's personality reassert itself.

Not that Shockwave actually intended to do that, however. It would be far simpler to just wipe the memory and datafiles clean and start over with a fresh spark. A new Decepticon would be born, and Barricade would be just as much space dust as Prowl. Of course, this could only be done once Shockwave understood exactly what had gone wrong with the first conversion. He needed to ensure that it wouldn't happen again, and he needed to know whether any of the Autobots-turned-Decepticons would try to betray him. Well, whether they would try to betray him more than usual.

Shockwave tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the datapad. A thorough scan had revealed no hidden recesses where a personality might be able to hide from him. That indicated that there must be some sort of external source for the Autobot to have retreated to. Shockwave' s sensors came alive as he sought out any possible external source to hide in.

At first he encountered nothing unusual. Just the typical active links that all mechs made with their surroundings. There were the customary links to the Decepticon communication frequencies and a constant upload from the nearest Decepticon computer system. Shockwave was about to give up and search for a different potential cause when his detectors noted a very minor variation on the communications link. At first Shockwave was sure that there was an error or a slight anomaly in the mech's energy signature. It wasn't a connection between the mech's CPU and a computer. Rather, it was something deeper, a spark connecting to something else.

There was only one thing that a spark connected to and that was another spark. But that couldn't be right. Autobots bonded with one another all the time as friends or more, but those connections were erased once a mech lost their spark patterns. The bond didn't know how to connect to a spark it didn't recognize.

Shockwave leaned back and watched the unconscious mech speculatively. A connection managed to survive. How was that even possible? Was there some sort of deeper connection, one so strong that the spark reaching out to Prowl would recognize it no matter how mutilated it became? There was only one thing that Shockwave knew of that could cause that.

One spark twin reaching out to the other.

Shockwave had never experimented on a pair of spark twins before. As far as he knew, this one might have been the only bonded mech he'd ever had, and somehow Prowl had concealed his brother from Shockwave's examination. Shockwave flipped a switch and energon began flowing into a line connected to Barricade's neck. The mech stirred, blinking his optics a few times before rousing completely.

**...xXx...**

"Frag," said Barricade, dimming his optics against the harsh light of the lab. "Is it over? Is he gone?"

A quick scan of his processor revealed Prowl to be residing exactly where he had been before.

_I am still here, Barricade, _said Prowl. _This revival cannot have been for a pleasant purpose._

_'_Great,' Barricade muttered privately

"Not yet," said Shockwave. "I have several questions for you, Barricade. "Please answer as completely and as honestly as you are able."

"What now?" Barricade growled. "Just get it over with, you glitch. How hard can it be?"

"Who is your brother?" Shockwave asked, ignoring the questions.

Barricade stilled instantly. Then his red optics narrowed.

_He knows, _Prowl said. _He will kill or try to convert Jazz if he is able._

Barricade had no real reason to do anything for the Autobot slag who was Prowl's brother. Jazz didn't really mean anything to Barricade at all. He was just more Autobot scum that needed to be turned into a black smear on the ground. Barricade obviously had no obligation to protect him from anything.

"I don't have a brother," Barricade growled.

It was true, technically. Jazz was Prowl's brother. Barricade would never acknowledge any familial connection with an Autobot, and if Shockwave wanted information, he would have to ask the question properly. Barricade wasn't protecting Jazz. He wasn't protecting an Autobot. Right? Right. He was just looking after himself.

The words sounded so painfully false even to Barricade's own internal audios that he stopped.

"I assure you that you do," said Shockwave. "If Prowl has concealed this information from you, allow him to come to the surface so that I can interrogate him properly."

_Prepare yourself for the session, _said Prowl. _If I endure pain, so will you. That is one of the unfortunate side effects of sharing this body._

"What would it mean if I did have a brother?" Barricade asked, trying to buy some time.

"Nothing for you," said Shockwave. "I am only interested in this for my own scientific pursuits."

_He plans to experiment on us, _Prowl observed. _You, me, and Jazz. I doubt he has ever encountered anything like this before. He will, no doubt be curious about our bond._

'This is all your fault,' Barricade growled. 'You and your slagging brother should just go rot in the Pit.'

Whether he liked it or not, whether he acknowledged Jazz or not, he wasn't going to let Shockwave destroy the stupidly grinning silver mech. And if Barricade didn't fully understand his own reasons for it, then he was sure there was some sort of fully Decepticon motivation behind it somewhere. Because the alternative was not worth thinking about.

"That slagging Autobot is asleep," Barricade lied. "He's weak, like all Autobots. The initial torture knocked him out, and he hasn't been back online since."

Shockwave tapped a few keys on his datapad.

"One personality can be online while the other is offline?" he asked. "That is an unusual piece of information."

"What, your scanners can't even tell you that?" Barricade asked. "Pretty pathetic piece of equipment you have there."

"It is the most powerful and advanced version of its kind," said Shockwave, and though Barricade thought he might have imagine it, there was a hint of mild annoyance buried under his tone.

"I think this whole 'brother' idea is glitched," Barricade went on. "I would have felt a connection, and I haven't. There is no brother. Your data is wrong. Figure out something else."

"That is all the information I require from you," said Shockwave. He tapped a few more buttons, and Barricade felt his systems shutting down again. Just before sinking into stasis lock, he heard Prowl's voice whisper one more thing.

_Don't worry_. _I can feel Jazz nearby. He is coming for us. _

**...xXx...**

Breem: 8 minutes

Orn: 2 weeks

**Note 2: **I know that with the other two movies out, this story is now extremely detached from canon, but I don't really mind. This is fanfiction, after all. So, at this point, we'll all just have to pretend that the other movies didn't happen and go from there.


	8. Chapter 7

**Note: **Okay. Here's the next chapter. Let me know what you think. Enjoy.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 7

**...xXx...**

Jazz worked his way through the narrow ventilation corridors. It took a neat trick of halfway transforming his shoulder components, but the small saboteur was able to fit nicely into spaces too tight for ordinary mechs. The shafts themselves were dark and only designed to allow average sized drones to fit. It was a fairly safe design for a Decepticon ship because Autobots did not use drones on principle. It was a weakness Jazz had exploited on numerous occasions, though the Decepticons never seemed to learn. They apparently thought that Jazz was a phase-capable that simply walked through walls despite the fact that Autobots didn't use that technology either. He was sure that eventually one of them would figure it out, but until then Jazz was not above using their weaknesses to the fullest extent.

Jazz was a few feet shy of the next junction when he heard it. A barely audible _click click scrape whirr click click. _He paused to listen. It was so soft that his audio receptors had to strain to hear it properly. It was mechanical in nature, obviously, but what could it be? It didn't follow any of the normal patterns for ship machinery. Jazz would know, he'd memorized them all hundreds of vorns ago. So what about this then?

The _click click _was definitely metal against metal. It sounded like a needle tapping against something. Jazz wondered if he was above some sort of lab. As he listened more, he tried to pick up the pattern. It wasn't constant. Sometimes there were a series of clicks followed by a few pauses. It sounded almost like very small footsteps except that it was too slow. And that _whirring _sounded like a mech venting with a bad intake pump.

Wait. Footsteps. Venting. There was something alive here in this shadowed ventilation duct. As he thought this, a pointed metal leg stepped around the corner, and a drone just less that half his size appeared. It turned its bulbous, misshapen head to stare with with bright red optics at Jazz.

_Whirr._

The downside of being able to partially transform meant that Jazz occasionally lost some of his normal capabilities. For this particular transformation, Jazz just happened to lose almost all of his weapons.

"Well frag," he said as the drone struck.

Jazz managed to leap back before the drone's pincer limbs impaled the ground where he had stood moments before. There was a harsh shriek of metal as his awkwardly folded armor scraped against the walls, slowing his movement. Jazz winced at the sound. If that didn't bring more trouble, nothing would.

The drone was still advancing, but not as quickly as Jazz had expected. It took a moment for him to see the chains around its neck trailing along the floor behind it. Was it some sort of escaped experiment? How had it gotten loose?

That didn't really matter at the moment. Jazz consulted the map as he hastily backtracked toward the previous junction. There was a grate that could take him into the main corridor. He would doubtless trip one of the ship's sensors, but he couldn't fight in here. He'd just have to trip the sensors and see if he could manage to slip away before the ship's automatic defense weapons gunned him down.

Well, at least he didn't think this mission was beneath him anymore.

The grate came into view. Jazz kicked it open with his foot and dove out into the corridor. He hadn't even set one foot on the floor before a needle-like appendage was launched right at his face. Jazz ducked aside, but not before the limb gouged a long, shallow furrow into his faceplate.

Slag, that would take an orn or two to close properly, and Ratchet would be less than accommodating with getting it fixed.

The new threat was much larger than the first drone. It was almost as large as a mech, but Jazz didn't have time to sit back and examine it closely as its long, spindly limbs shot forward, trying to stab him again. Jazz jumped back, transforming himself into a more battle-ready form. His light cannons came online just just as the drone cornered him in one of the hallway's recesses, and Jazz shot it three times in quick succession. The first two shots hit it straight in the chest, melting the weak armor, and the third struck its neck, severing several primary energon arteries.

The drone reeled back, clutching at its neck as the energon spilled out. It only lasted a few moments before toppling forward and crashing to the floor. Jazz vented heavily for a moment and examined the now downed drone. It was long and thin with dozens on needle-like appendages sticking out at awkward angles from its body. It reminded Jazz of an organic lifeform on Earth called a centipede. It wasn't a design that Jazz had ever seen before, and he could guess that it was one of Shockwave's many experiments.

As Jazz stepped over the drone's body, he caught sight of the blue collar around its neck. He ducked down, snapped it off and made quick work of breaking into the mini-computer within. The collar was designed to give painful shocks if the drone stepped out of its cell, but the shocking mechanism had been disabled. Jazz followed the command line in the code, and to his dismay, he realized that it was a ship-wide command. That meant that someone must have set these things free on purpose, and Jazz could guess at who that someone might be. On the plus side, at least the ship's internal defenses had been deactivated to allow the drones free rein.

Shockwave must have been pretty confident that none of his pets would reach his lab. That meant that he would be sealed in there tighter than Ratchet's weld lines. Well, there was one way to test it out for certain.

In the small computer in the drone's collar was a basic layout of the ship with whole areas designated for no entry zones. Jazz consulted the maps he'd pilfered from the computer system and compared them to the inlaid maps on the drone's collar. For the most part, they were fairly similar with all of the typical forbidden zones highlighted in a pleasant shade of red. There were also temporary pathways marked in purple where the drone was being allowed to travel now as well as the basic cell blocks and labs marked in green. But there were certain key differences. The location of the main labs on the ship map was on an entirely different level from the collar map.

So Shockwave had obviously altered the ship map in the event that someone might steal it. Well, that must have been some trick, because Jazz was sure that this was the only map in the whole computer system. Shockwave must have destroyed the original ship plans and kept the only real copy in his own personal memory banks. It was inefficient and invited trouble when defending a ship as large as this, but Jazz had to admit that Shockwave's paranoia may not have been entirely unwarranted. The one new important piece of information that Jazz gleaned from all of this was that the ventilation shafts wouldn't lead him to where he wanted to go, and there was no way he could get in with a full frontal assault.

How was he supposed to get in now?

Jazz heard the scraping thuds of enormous footsteps from either side of him. He turned to see five more drones surrounding him. They were behemoths, almost as big as Optimus Prime. They lumbered through the corridor with heavy armor far too thick to be penetrated by a simple light cannon. Jazz's audios also caught the echo of more drones clicking in the ventilation ducts above him. And the walls themselves were too thick to break through. It looked like he was trapped. There was no way out.

Perfect.

**...xXx...**

Shockwave received the message from his drones about the capture of an Autobot spy with a small measure of surprise. None of the external warning systems had indicated the arrival of any ships. He was currently monitoring what appeared to be human-made space craft that had entered orbit several joors ago. He reviewed the security footage of the lower decks and identified the unusually small saboteur.

Ah, it was the Autobot designated Jazz. The mech had apparently been captured by the shock trooper drones with moderate difficulty. Though the fact that the Autobot had somehow managed to take out two of the drones was more than a little impressive considering the disparity of their fighting capabilities. The drones had ultimately managed to capture him without damaging him too much. That would be good. A prisoner of war could find many uses, from giving interrogation information, to being a test subject, to becoming a Decepticon loyal to the cause.

Shockwave sent a short command to have them bring the prisoner into the adjacent lab. He would begin work on the Autobot as soon as his current experiments were completed. In regards to his latest project, the Decepticon Barricade was proving to be quite the enigma. Shockwave had retaken all of his measurements three times and come up with the same conclusion. There was nothing amiss except for the possibility of a spark bond.

Shockwave walked over to the monitors and displayed the spark readings from his previous three experiments and compared them. Well, that was interesting. The spark patterns remained the same, although the strength of the readings had been steadily increasing with each new measurement until there was no doubt about their existence. Shockwave pressed a series of buttons and a fourth set of data appeared on the screen, mimicking the shape of the three already present sets. This was the strongest reading yet, and it seemed to be gaining strength even as he watched it.

What could cause such a phenomenon?

A small message appeared on his communication link.

**Autobot prisoner delivered to and restrained in Lab N2B**

Oh.

Shockwave turned to where Barricade remained offline on the table. It was more than he could have hoped for. A pair of spark twins were currently residing in two of his labs just waiting to be studied. If Shockwave had been the type of mech to smile, he would have then. But instead he glanced toward the door that led to his other primary lab and began composing a list of experiments to begin performing.

This was amazing. This was new. This was something far more interesting than his drone invasion or even the slowly approaching ship which may or may not contain the Autobots. But both would also have to be attended to. He couldn't just leave his drones to destroy everything in their path or else the Decepticons would lose a valuable slave population. And the Autobots were annoyingly persistent and had the potential to cause enough damage to hinder his plans. Shockwave vented slowly.

No, Jazz and Barricade would have to wait, no matter how fascinating they proved to be. Right now, Shockwave had administrative duties to attend to. But he could get a glimpse of his latest acquisition. He could afford that much time at least.

Shockwave unlocked the lab doors and stepped inside. The small saboteur was laying bound on the center table. The side benches were already laden with medical and scientific instruments which Shockwave had been planning to use on another project. Said project had been shoved onto a nearby table. It was a mech protoform slightly smaller than Barricade but still larger and bulkier than Jazz, who was offline with multiple blaster wounds on his upper body and a long cut along his faceplate.

The mech had fared far better against the shock trooper drones than Shockwave would have believed possible. He would have to examine the security footage to see exactly what the saboteur had done in order to better equip his drones in the future. For now, he would just have to settle for setting up the diagnostic tools to monitor the spark bond.

"I have many plans for you and your brother," Shockwave said aloud, not expecting an answer. "We will have a great deal of fun together when you wake."

A message pinged Shockwave's communication's link.

**OBJECT DELIVERED**

**Awaiting new priority orders.**

So, the Allspark fragment had been retrieved successfully. Shockwave sent out a silent command for a mission report and received a prompt reply. The mission objectives had been accomplished without difficulties and the drone had returned unharmed and unhindered. Shockwave expected nothing more from the foolish Autobots and nothing less from his own perfect creation. He sent a command to have the drone bring the fragment into Lab N2B where the empty protoform was waiting.

Shockwave intended to see if he could produce a spark from the Allspark fragment and if he could master the necessary techniques, then his next priority would be to revive Megatron and bring forth an army of Decepticons to destroy the Autobots.

The Autobots were fools to have let such a priceless artifact slip through their fingers. They would live just long enough to regret their carelessness, and Shockwave intended to wait until they fully understood their mistakes before sending them to the pit.

All hail Megatron.

**...xXx...**

Jazz could feel Shockwave setting the instruments to their diagnostic mode, but he remained perfectly still. His programming allowed him to enter a system state that appeared identical to being offline, but he retained all of his core processes. It had been a simple thing to fool the drones, but Shockwave would be harder. Thankfully, the restraints were weak, and the mad scientist hadn't thought to add a suppression field yet.

How much longer Jazz's luck would last, he didn't know, but he wasn't about to bank on it too much. He sent a short command line to each of his weapons, priming them to be powered on at a tic's notice. He would only get this one chance to disarm and kill the scientist before going after his brother.

Shockwave turned away, and Jazz powered on his optics. But before he could move any more, the door hissed open, and he flicked them off again. What new threat had just entered? Jazz strained his sensors, trying to get an idea about what had just entered the lab.

The hollow _click _of small footsteps was familiar. It was a light, barely audible sound, so it must have been a small drone. Jazz chanced activating his energy sensors, and his systems almost stopped.

The Allspark.

He could feel the Allspark. How could it be here? How could Shockwave have gotten a piece of the sacred artifact? No, it didn't matter. Somehow, Shockwave had gotten hold of an Allspark fragment. Maybe it was the one the Autobots had, or maybe it was another piece that had broken off. Either way, it was something Jazz couldn't leave behind. So, just under rescuing his brother and killing the mad scientist, Jazz added retrieving the Allspark fragment on his list of things to do today. Someone was going to owe him big for this.

Jazz waited as Shockwave walked around the room, just out of easy striking distance, and Jazz waited. He could _feel _Prowl on the other side of the door. His brother was there, so close. Jazz pulled his mind back to the present. He would see Prowl soon enough. He couldn't afford to be distracted now.

His sensors could detect the faint fluctuations in the Allspark's power. It was unsteady, especially from being in such close quarters with a cybertronian. There was a reason they had given the fragment to Sam to handle, after all. Jazz didn't want to think about the mayhem that it could cause if something brought forth its power unexpectedly, though he wasn't above using it as a distraction.

Thankfully, Shockwave managed to put the fragment away without fuss, and quietly exited the lab into the hallway. Wherever he was going, it wasn't the room where Jazz could feel his brother, and that was exactly what he needed right now. Jazz activated his optics once again and examined the diagnostic instruments. They would probably alert Shockwave if he just ripped them out, so Jazz sacrificed a few breems to hack into the computer and set the data acquisition into a small feedback loop. Hopefully Shockwave wouldn't notice the discrepancy in the breem or two it would take Jazz to sneak into the other lab and revive his brother.

Jazz slipped off of the table, and sneaked quietly toward the door. It remained unlocked and Jazz grinned as he stretched his sensors into the adjacent lab, hoping to get an idea about the layout of the room beyond. There wasn't much, just the _click beep beep _of basic medical machinery. There didn't appear to be any traps on the door either, so Jazz opened the door and stepped inside the new lab.

Prowl lay stretched across the large table in the center. His chest plate was open, revealing his glowing spark, and Jazz felt his own spark leap in fear and anger. Prowl looked terrible, his armor burned and battered from where Ironhide had blasted him as well as dozens of other minor wounds. Jazz would need to convince Ratchet to look at Prowl the moment they got back. Prowl was notorious for not getting his wounds checked regularly, often preferring to get back to work right away.

Jazz smiled at the old memory and stepped closer. He reached out and laid his hand on his brother's forehead. The optics were dark, but at this range, Jazz could feel Prowl's spark singing in tune with his own. It was nice, but he couldn't just stand here forever. Jazz shook his head and hooked up a neural link into Shockwave's toys, hacking them easily and finding the energon supply link. It only took a moment to resupply the energon feed, and Jazz watched the purple fluid enter a clear tube into his brother's neck.

Prowl began to twitch a tic later, and Jazz set to work on the suppression fields.

"The frag..." the other mech slurred, his vocalizer filled with static.

Okay, not Prowl, but close enough. Jazz paused though. This Decepticon might have shared Prowl's body, but he had also gone to Shockwave willingly. Jazz wasn't sure if Barricade would shoot him or not, so it wasn't the best idea to free him just yet.

"Hey 'Cade," said Jazz cheerfully. "What's up?"

"Slagger," Barricade muttered, shuttering his optics a few times in quick succession to reset them properly. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing your sorry hide, that's what I'm doing," said Jazz. "Now, I just wanna know if you're planning on shooting me if I let you up?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Barricade asked, his voice now clear and menacing. "I came here to get rid of my little programming error. Why would I want to leave?"

"Because Shockwave knows that we're spark twins, and he seems really happy about having us both to experiment on," said Jazz. "Now if you just really, really like pain, then I always can punch you in the face a few times just for fun, but unless you want to die, I suggest you come with me. Now, you gonna fight me, or you gonna get the slag out of here?"

Barricade growled. But before he could respond, the whole ship shook with a massive explosion. Barricade twitched in shock, but the suppression field wouldn't allow more movement than that.

"Well, looks like backup has arrived!" said Jazz. And for better or worse, he released the suppression field.

**...xXx...**


	9. Chapter 8

**Note: **Thank you so much to my reviewers! I hope you enjoy the new chapter.**  
**

**...xXx...**

Chapter 8

**...xXx...**

Barricade felt the sudden lifting of the suppression field. He leaped to his feet more from habit than anything else. It was an unbelievable relief to be able to move again. The few times that Barricade had been restrained were some of the worst experiences of his life. He allowed himself a moment to revel in the simple pleasure of being able to move his arms.

Jazz gave him time. The grinning, wounded mech was still watching him with his weapons powered down.

_Jazz is hurt, _said Prowl as though it wasn't immediately obvious to any mech with functioning optics. _And I can feel the Allspark nearby._

That caused Barricade to reach out with his sensors and, sure enough, the Allspark's energy signature blazed against his detectors. How much had happened while he was unconscious?

"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are we heading home?" asked Jazz.

_You don't have much of a choice at this point,_ Prowl added helpfully.

Barricade growled again.

"Fine, you Primus fragging glitch spawn," he said. "But I'm only coming with you because Shockwave is even crazier than you idiot Autobots. And just for the record, I am not going 'home' with you. You're leaving. I'm leaving. And then we go our separate ways."

"We'll see," said Jazz cheerfully. "C'mon 'Cade."

_Wait, _said Prowl. _Neither of us are in fighting condition. We have medical tools here. We should make use of them while we have the chance._

'I'm pretty sure none of us has medical programming,' thought Barricade.

_We don't need it to use the nanobots, _said Prowl, and Barricade felt an unconscious tug at his awareness, drawing his attention to the table where a vat of nanobots was sitting in plain sight. _They should be preprogrammed to help with automatic repairs._

"Wait, fragger," said Barricade. "Put some of these nanobots on my back."

Jazz glanced between him and the vat where the nanobots sat suspended in a thick blue gel. He shrugged with his uninjured shoulder.

"Sure thing, 'Cade, but we don't have a lot of time," he said, already walking over to the table. "Come over here."

Barricade obeyed, but showing his back to the Autobot proved difficult. His core programming was warning him that he should be shooting the Autobot scum staring him in the face, not letting his wounds be tended to. It took a tic to override the impulse to shoot the other mech. In the end, though, it was Jazz's carefree grin that allowed Barricade to let his guard down just a little and turn his back to the Autobot.

Jazz applied the nanobot gel to Barricade's wounds quickly but carefully so as not to cause too much pain. The gel was warm against his armor and Barricade could already feel them beginning to work as they began regenerating the cybertronian metal. The soft tingling from the nanobots wasn't a pleasant sensation, but it was infinitely preferable to the sharp sting from the blaster wound.

When Jazz was done, he stepped back.

"Ready?" he asked.

"You need it too, fragger," said Barricade. He turned around and dipped his hand into the vat before he could think better of it. "You won't be any use to me if you break in half before we can get the frag out of here."

If Jazz was surprised by Barricade's actions, he didn't show it. Instead, he held perfectly still as the Decepticon applied the nanobot gel to the wounds on his chest and shoulder. And if Barricade wasted the gel on the minor cut on Jazz's faceplate, it was because there was just enough gel left over on his hand.

"Am I good?" Jazz asked when Barricade stepped back.

"Pathetic, but you'll live," he replied.

"Then let's roll," said Jazz. "I've already got our escape route planned out. Just stay close to me."

_What about the Allspark? _Prowl asked. _We can't leave it here._

'Why not?' Barricade asked.

_Shockwave will use it to revive Megatron, _said Prowl.

'Megatron is my master, remember?' Barricade thought. 'I want him to be revived.'

_Megatron favors Shockwave, _said Prowl. _He will give us both to Shockwave willingly. Unless you feel a burning desire to be back on that table, Megatron is better off dead._

Barricade was silent for a painful moment as his core programming clashed with his survival instinct.

"We can't leave the Allspark," said Barricade at last. "Shockwave will use it to revive Megatron."

"I know, but we can't move it," said Jazz. "We don't know how it will react to a cybertronian. It's too unstable. Shockwave was lucky it didn't blow up when the drone was carrying it here."

Barricade cursed.

"Destroy it, then?" he asked.

Jazz was silent. Then he nodded.

"I think that's the only way," he said. "Let's-"

But before he could continue, the entire wall exploded inward.

**...xXx...**

Optimus Prime and the other Autobots had escorted the three human space ships into Earth's outer orbit. Shockwave would probably be monitoring the liftoff, and there was no real way to conceal it from cybertronian technology, but they were careful to maintain normal human-propulsion speeds until they were in the real void of space. Then they activated the stealth field and shot toward the cloaked Decepticon ship at full speed.

Every breem felt like an eternity. Optimus knew that Jazz could handle himself. He knew that Jazz was his most talented infiltrator. He knew it, and yet...

Jazz had been with him for a long time. He and Ratchet and Optimus had fought together. They had won and lost many battles together. Jazz was cheerful and cunning and resourceful. And, in spite of all that, he had still died. Losing the small mech had been harder than Optimus had let on at first. A leader could not be shown to have favorites, and though his spark had clenched painfully when Jazz was killed, ultimately he was only one comrade in a long line of friends stolen by Megatron. But he was also the first to come back.

The Allspark had given Jazz a second chance at life, a chance that few had ever been given. And Optimus did not want to lose him again. Not like this. Not while fighting for a brother turned Decepticon. It felt too familiar for Optimus, too much like himself and Megatron. Maybe that was why he gave Jazz hope and said that if Prowl really did exist, then he could come back. Optimus had granted this request knowing that Prowl was most likely dead or else too burdened with Decepticon programming to ever trust again. But still, he couldn't bring himself to steal away Jazz's only chance at getting his brother back again.

_:We are ready to fire, Optimus: _said Ironhide through the communications link. _:We are in range, cannons charged:_

_:Open fire: _said Optimus. There was no more time to think, only time to fight.

Shockwave's ship may have been a Decepticon vessel, but it had been modified over the vorns to be a research and medical ship rather than a battle cruiser. As such, its stealth, weapons, and defenses were not as high quality as Optimus was used to dealing with. Ironhide's specially designed cannons blasted through the ship's armor with little more resistance than a piece of paper.

_:Time until docking?: _Optimus asked.

_:Two breems: _Bumblebee replied.

Bumblebee would be taking point on the human portion of this operation. Ratchet had outfitted each of the human soldiers with tactical gear made for fighting cybertronians in space. And while Optimus might have preferred to keep this battle between mechs, there was no denying that the humans had proven useful in the past or that they had every right to fight while saving their own planet.

And then they were within docking range. The human shuttles latched on with robotic arms and pulled the vessels into the wounds. Optimus and Ironhide took the lead, bursting into the upper deck and blasting away several plasma turrets with their own guns. Ironhide was already moving forward, his twin cannons firing in quick succession as various internal defenses came to life.

It only took the weapons specialist a few moments to clear the floor for the humans. Lennox's team of twelve soldiers bounced down onto the deck, their modified weapons raised and ready. Bumblebee stood guard over them as they adjusted to the much lower gravity generated by the ship. Optimus didn't have time to wait. He signaled Ironhide forward and Ratchet to stay close behind him. The humans would catch up once the Autobots had cleared the largest threats.

Optimus consulted the map Jazz had given him again. They were three decks below the central command deck. The controls for the drone army should be in there, and after dealing with that, they could assist Jazz if he hadn't escaped already. Optimus thought about opening a communications link to the saboteur, but decided against it. If Jazz was still on the ship, then he didn't want to risk giving away his location.

_:Autobots, roll out: _said Optimus over the link.

They ran into their first bout of fighting on the deck directly above them. Three large drones dropped from the ceiling, their weapons blazing orange and blue, firing haphazardly at the invading Autobots. Ironhide took out one of them with a precise shot to the neck. Optimus moved forward to take on the largest one at close range, thrusting his sword under a joint in its chest plate to pierce its core systems. The drone's red optics flickered once and died. Ratchet was already using his saw blade to dismember the third drone. Twisted metal limbs were flicked aside carelessly. Ironhide moved in for the kill, shooting the drone in the back.

_:Optimus, I've scanned this section: _said Ratchet over the link. _:There are twenty three drones in the ventilation systems, and there are fifty five spread throughout the ship. I can detect Jazz, Shockwave, and Barricade four decks above us:_

_:Acknowledged: _said Optimus. He had expected as much. _:Stick with the original plan. We destroy the computer, help Jazz, and retrieve the Allspark:_

Optimus activated his own sensors and could detect the approaching drones through the walls, ceiling and floor. They were all gathering to the disturbance they had created. Thankfully they seemed to be focusing on the three Autobots and not the human party a short distance back.

_:Bumblebee, watch for drones circling around behind us: _said Optimus.

_:Understood: _Bumblebee replied.

Optimus stepped forward down the hall, his sword quickly replaced with a heavy blaster. He couldn't risk close range weapons against a large number of weak enemies or else they would overwhelm him. There were downsides to being large and heavily armored.

At the far end of the hall was a long, narrow stairwell that would only allow for one mech to pass at a time. It was the perfect place for an ambush, and so Optimus went first. Ironhide was close behind, and Ratchet hung back. They had almost reached the top of the stairs when two more drones dropped from the ceiling. Ironhide saw them first and blasted them easily. But, instead of falling away harmlessly, they burst in an explosion of green acid. The rain of caustic fluid began to eat away at Optimus's helm and shoulder armor in seconds. The sizzling burned against audios so that he almost didn't hear Ratchet shouting at him. Instead of pausing, he ripped off his helm and cast it aside. The shoulder armor was harder to get rid of. Ironhide was helpfully ripping off smaller pieces at the risk of his own fingers. And then Ratchet was there, neutralizing the acid that had crept dangerously close to vital systems.

"Exploding acid drones," Ratchet growled in disgust. Now that they were inside the ship and had access to atmosphere, they could use their vocalizers again. "Only Shockwave could come up with something that vile."

"Let me take the lead, Optimus," said Ironhide. "You can't lead with half your upper armor missing."

"Be careful," Optimus acknowledged the offer. "Ratchet, fall back a little."

Ironhide stepped forward with his cannons blazing and ready to fire just as seven more drones appeared. Two were the acid bursting kind. One was long and thin with dozens of sharp limbs sprouting from all over its torso. The other four were oddly rounded and bulky with no visible weapons.

Ironhide was already shooting at the two acid drones, hoping to detonate them while they were still far away. He succeeded with both of them, and the acid splashed against the armor of a rounded one. As the acid sizzled against its armor, it began to twitch. Faster and faster it rocked until it too exploded, showering the entire hallway with a thick, gelatinous black goo.

"Don't touch it," said Ratchet from behind them.

They watched as the long one stepped forward into the pool of goo. It's thin limbs sank into the substance, but as it tried to lift them back up again, it couldn't. It tried to wrench its legs up, bracing its other legs against the equally covered walls, but those too became caught. The other three rounded drones were already rolling forward. Their armor must have been coated with some sort of repellent because they slid easily through the muck.

"Fall back," said Optimus. "We'll have to find another way."

"What way?" Ironhide asked, shooting the rounded drones, hoping to detonate them while they were still out of range. "This is the main corridor. There is no other way."

It took four direct hits, but a second rounded drone exploded, showing the rest of the corridor in goo.

"Then we'll just have to make one," said Optimus, transforming his arms into the largest cannon in his arsenal. He preferred not to use this weapon. In most cases it was overkill and it drained his energon reserves drastically, but he needed a path through this ship, and anything less wasn't going to cut it.

It took his cannon a long tic to charge, but the resulting blast nearly knocked him backward from the sheer force. The superheated plasma burst through the ceiling and kept on going. It punched through seven floors before exploding in a dazzle of white light.

"You almost hit Jazz," Ratchet informed him.

Optimus paused to gauge his energon levels. That attack had taken a lot out of him. He wouldn't be able to use it again. He sent a quick message to Bumblebee warning him of the exploding drones ahead.

"I'll apologize to him later," he said. "Let's roll."

The three Autobots climbed through the ceiling and onto the next floor. Ironhide fell back to shoot the last rounded drones before leaping up after his comrades. Optimus paused as Ratchet scanned the new deck with his enhanced sensors.

"There are nine more drones headed this way," he said. "One acid one, two sticky ones, four long ones, and two others."

"I am not eager to see what else Shockwave has managed to create," said Optimus. "Are they between us and the command center?"

"No but they'll reach us before Bumblebee and the humans do," said Ratchet. "We should try to clear those drones for the humans, destroy the central computer, and let them move on to Jazz and the Allspark."

Optimus opened a link to the young scout.

_:Bumblebee, what is your current status?: _he asked.

_:We've circled around your area and encountered some nasty drones: _Bumblebee replied, sounding tense. _:We'll be with you in a breem, though if you stay where you are:_

_:We can hold this position: _said Optimus.

"Bumblebee will be with us shortly," he said aloud. "Ironhide, take a defensive position at the end of the corridor. We don't know what else Shockwave has planned for us here."

He couldn't underestimate what defenses the scientist would place around his central computers. Granted, having this many drones guarding the ship would deter most invaders, but for them, turning back had never been an option. The fate of Earth hung in the balance, and they weren't about to let it fail.

As he thought this, a large drone lumbered around the corner.

"Incoming, Optimus," said Ironhide.

"Fire at will," he said. And the corridor erupted in explosions.

**...xXx...**


	10. Chapter 9

** Note: **I present Chapter 9. Enjoy.

**...xXx...**

Chapter 9

**...xXx...  
**

Bumblebee's scout programming allowed him to analyze multiple situations both quickly and efficiently. He was also designed to acquire vast amounts of information and identify dangerous situations. Thus, it soon became apparent that the whole ship was one giant trap. It was designed to allow easy access into the outer section while blocking off the inner core with heavy defenses. An unknowing assailant would be caught in the lower decks, inside of the ship but outside of any sensitive areas. And the narrow corridors were perfect fighting grounds for Shockwave's many drones. It was the type of trap meant to take into account all of the Autobot's usual combat abilities.

But even the scientist hadn't anticipated fighting against humans.

The human soldiers could fight remarkably well against the small, weak drones. Their tight formations and clever tactics worked well against the acid exploders and the long-limbed close range fighters. And with Bumblebee there to destroy any of the bulky, rounded ones, they were having a fairly decent time fighting through the corridors, especially since Optimus and the others were drawing the brunt of the defenders.

Bumblebee gave the humans a boost through the hole in the ceiling to where the other mechs waited.

"The upper decks are clear of drones," said Ratchet when Bumblebee had gathered all the humans together. "We've cleared this deck. More are coming from below, but they won't be able to get past us."

"Go on ahead to Jazz and the Allspark," said Optimus, who was looking oddly frail without his helm or upper armor. "Shockwave is still there, so be careful. If retrieving the Allspark is not an option, I give you permission to destroy it."

"Destroy it?" Bumblebee asked, a little shocked.

Optimus nodded gravely.

"If it becomes necessary," he said. "We cannot leave it in Decepticon hands."

"Yes, Sir," said Bumblebee.

"We will proceed to the central computer," said Optimus. "Good luck."

There was a murmur of response from the assembled humans, who quickly began to climb up the melted remains of the wall toward the upper deck. Bumblebee nodded and followed, his own sensors primed and ready, on the lookout for the mad scientist.

**...xXx...**

"Get the frag off!" Barricade shouted from beneath Jazz.

"Cool your intake valve," said Jazz, struggling to remove the debris that was covering them both. The moment he had enough leverage, Barricade shoved the smaller mech aside and struggled up.

"What was that?" he asked as he finally stood.

"Don't know," said Jazz. "But we should probably split before we find out."

Barricade nodded.

"First we deal with the Allspark," he said. "Then we can-"

He was interrupted by Jazz shoving him to the floor as a yellow blaster beam shot through the room. Both looked over to the ruined door to see Shockwave standing with a heavy rifle.

"Awake and running loose, I see," said Shockwave, hefting the gun. "Your allies have made a terrible mess of my ship. Once I deal with you, I will punish them for their transgressions."

Barricade sneered, but as he tried to activate his weapons he found that they had been disabled while he was offline. Jazz was already moving. His own weapons were still functioning perfectly, and he darted forward to the scant cover of the overturned table. Barricade scrambled in the opposite direction, to the mangled remains of the wall leading to the next lab.

The other lab had seen the worst of the blast. Half of it was gone, and a circular hole in the floor led to the lower decks. But along the back wall the Allspark was still laid out beside a protoform. Barricade looked back. Shockwave had Jazz pinned down. The other Decepticon seemed more intent on the Autobot than Barricade. Now would be the perfect opportunity to escape.

_Allow me, _said Prowl.

Barricade's weapons hummed online. Barricade raised both his arms and began to fire at the insane scientist. Caught off guard, Shockwave fell back a few paces before turning his rifle on Barricade. Barricade ducked into the other lab, but the plasma blast followed him. He half turned to see the beam of yellow light as it caught his shoulder and flung him into the far wall. The energy exploded, temporarily shorting his systems just as the Allspark was knocked into his lap.

The pain was unimaginable.

It felt like his spark was trying to rip right out of his spark chamber again. Barricade growled and tried to throw the Allspark aside, but his arms remained unresponsive as his systems tried to reset with all of the interference. Prowl was an indistinct, warbling static in the back of his processor as his whole body grew hot. He tried to vent, but it wasn't enough. His entire body was overheating. Energy was running along the runes etched into the Allspark, over his armor, and back again. The blue light danced faster and faster as a new, bright spark began to form on the surface.

Barricade felt himself scream, but the sound didn't even reach his own audio receptors.

And then there was nothing. Barricade sank back into the wall. His sensors felt fried, and every atom of his body ached horribly. He shuttered his optics and reset his sensor nodes several times before they began sending him data that he could interpret properly. When he looked down at his lap, he could see the Allspark and a new, small spark resting on its surface.

'What the frag?' Barricade thought.

There was no response.

'Prowl?'

Nothing.

"Prowl?" he said aloud. The spark in front of him pulsed once, as though in response. Barricade felt his own spark try to reach out, just a little, to feel the newborn spark. If he hadn't been slumped against the wall, he would have reeled back in shock.

Yes. It was Prowl. Their sparks resonated perfectly, pulsing together. Somehow, the Allspark had created a new spark, and Prowl had entered into it.

"Well, what the frag am I supposed to do with this?" Barricade asked aloud. But Prowl was no longer in his head, so no answer was forthcoming. Barricade looked around, and his optics fell on the protoform now splayed limply across an overturned shelving unit.

Well, that could work.

**...xXx...**

Jazz felt something happening to his brother. It was pain. Intense and unyielding, worse even than whatever Shockwave had done to him. Jazz didn't think. He didn't stop. As his sensors fogged with pain that wasn't his own, he flicked the switch on a plasma bomb and threw it at the scientist still standing in the gaping doorway. The scientist barely had time to turn around before the bomb exploded in his face.

Jazz tried to stand, but the pain was trowing off all of his sensor systems. He tried to mute the bond, but it still felt as though his spark was being torn in half. He limped over to the marginally better shelter offered by a collapsed wall panel and fell to his knees. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't fight. He couldn't think. He could only wait for it to stop.

Eventually it did stop. The pain lifted, leaving him feeling weak and disoriented.

Jazz didn't hear the heavy footfalls approaching or see the shadow that fell over him until it was too late. When he lifted his head, he found himself starring down the barrel of Shockwave's rifle.

**...xXx...**

Ironhide blasted the door into the central control room and ducked to the side as the internal defenses shot right back at him. Optimus was farther down the hall with Ratchet. They were blasting away at the small swarm of drones converging on their location. Ironhide turned back to the control room and reached out his own sensors to try and map the location of the turrets. It was times like this when he wished his sensors were more advanced. As it was, Shockwave's jamming devices were preventing him from seeing anything useful.

Ironhide shrugged his massive shoulders. Oh well. They were only here to destroy the place, and that was one thing Ironhide excelled at above all others.

Waiting for a momentary lull in the offensive firing, Ironhide ducked down and fired into the open room blindly. It didn't really matter what he hit as long as he hit as many important things as possible, so he started off on the right and fanned his cannon fire in a broad arc across the room. There were telltale explosions from machinery and the bright flashes from fried computer components. Ironhide grinned.

Eventually the automated defenses stopped firing, and Ironhide chanced a look inside. Sure enough, the defenses and many of the computers were destroyed. But that still left the main control computer, which was safely behind a small energy shield.

Ironhide revved his cannons. He had used almost all of his energon. If he calculated enough to get himself back to Earth, he had enough firepower for maybe a dozen more shots. It would take about that many if he used them all against the shield, and he doubted that Optimus had enough fire power after blasting that huge hole right through the belly of the ship. Frag, he hated being helpless after a fight, but there wasn't any other options at this point.

Ironhide raised his canons and took aim at the dimly glowing yellow shield and opened fire.

**...xXx...**

Shockwave was well aware that he was rapidly losing control of the situation aboard his own vessel. He had not anticipated the arrival of Optimus Prime, nor of the artful guile of the small saboteur who had so quickly turned the tables on the genius scientist. Well that didn't matter, because now the Autobot Jazz was at his mercy, and if there was one weakness that Autobots could always be counted on having, it was sentimentality towards captured friends. Shockwave would be able to use Jazz against the others to get them to leave, and then he could return to Cybertron, gather materials, and regroup.

As he looked down at the stunned Autobot, he opened his mouth to command his surrender. A plasma blast ripped into his back followed by dozens of smaller projectiles. Shockwave turned quickly to see a yellow Autobot standing beside a half-melted wall with a few organic lifeforms firing their weapons at him. Shockwave backed up quickly, but there was no cover.

The Autobot advanced, firing twice more. Shockwave tried to raise his own weapon, but Jazz was now laying beneath him and under his guard. The blast caught Shockwave's elbow joint, and the gun fell limply from his grasp.

"It's over, Shockwave," the yellow Autobot said. His bright blue optics blazed from behind his battle mask. The organics dared to venture beyond the safety of cover, fanning out to cover his position from all sides.

Shockwave stared at them all for a long moment. They clearly did not understand the situation. Well, Shockwave could help them with that.

"This is my ship," he said, as though explaining to a very stupid lower lifeform, which they were even if Megatron continued to acknowledge them to an extent. "You cannot invade my ship and escape."

"You are outnumbered, and out gunned," said the yellow Autobot. "You cannot win."

"Oh, I never said anything about winning," said Shockwave. He hooked up a neural link to the command computer. It was sending him dozens of error and warning messages about damage. The Autobot weapons specialist had just blasted away the shield surrounding the command computer. Shockwave quickly input a command line that he never thought he would be reduced to using.

_**:Warning, warning, warning: **_the deep-toned voice of the central control systems blared throughout the whole ship. **_:Self Destruct in t minus 5 tics:_**

"Five seconds," he added for the benefit of the humans present. "Then we all die together."

Even the Autobots would not be able to escape the ship in so short a time. Shockwave laid back and shuttered his optics.

_**:Warning, warning, warning: **_the control system repeated. **_:Self Destruct in t minus 5 breems...6 breems...ten breems:_**

Shockwave gave a start of surprise only to look over and see Jazz grinning from where he sat opposite the scientist.

"'Fraid not, Shocker," he said.

"No, I-" but Shockwave never got the chance to finish. A plasma blast ripped right through his chest armor, exposing his spark. Another perfectly aimed shot followed the first, and Shockwave's spark exploded in a burst of white light.

**...xXx...**

All eyes and optics in the room turned to look at the two new mechs standing just behind the humans gathered in the room. One was large and bulky with black and white armor and blazing red optics. The other looked oddly small in comparison with no real armor to speak of. But he stood proudly with a single small, battered canon attached to his arm. Both he and Barricade had their arms raised with their cannons still smoking slightly. As one, they lowered their weapons.

The smaller one turned, and his bright, clear, blue optics were focused solely on the small silver mech.

As Jazz opened the bond to his brother, he felt his spark warm and clench in an odd way. Apparently, he had two brothers now. He didn't even know how that had happened, but he was too lost in happiness to care. It took him a moment to get his thoughts together.

"Hey Prowler," he said.

Prowl looked back, and his optics softened in acknowledgement.

"We should vacate the ship as soon as possible," he said. His voice was as calm and smooth as Jazz remembered, so unlike Barricade's rough voice. "I know that you will be unable to dismantle the self destruct completely. It was enough for you to give us time, but we should not linger here longer than necessary. Are you fit to travel?"

Jazz took a moment to examine his own body. He would be right back in Ratchet's med bay for a while, that was for sure, but he knew he could make it back to Earth.

"Yeah, let's go," he said.

"Wait," said Bumblebee. "What about him?"

Bumblebee gestured to Barricade, who stood stiffly just behind Prowl.

"He will accompany us back to Earth," said Prowl.

"As a prisoner?" Bumblebee asked.

"No, as a friend," said Jazz. Prowl nodded in agreement. Barricade looked as though he might object, but thought better of it at the last moment. He merely scowled and grumbled too quietly for Jazz's audio receptors to catch.

"We need to get the Allspark," said one of the humans. Jazz took a moment to recognize him as Lennox.

"The Allspark is located in the adjoining room," said Prowl. He gestured for the human to follow him. Barricade stepped back and watched Bumblebee warily. Bumblebee watched him right back. The yellow guardian was standing protectively over the remaining humans, just daring Barricade to try anything. The room was tense until Lennox returned carrying the Allspark shard in a special container designed by Ratchet.

"Alright, let's mosey on back to Earth," said Jazz, grinning again. He stood, careful to avoid jostling his wounds.

Bumblebee nodded.

"I've commed Prime," he said. "Prime says to 'roll out'."

And that was all it took for the mismatched group to set off through the bowels of the ship and back toward their ships and their ticket home.

**...xXx...**

**Note 2: **Well folks, we're getting near the end now. Just a few more loose ends to tie up. As always, let me know what you think!


	11. Epilogue

**...xXx...**

Epilogue

**...xXx...**

_One year later..._

Prowl stretched out his right arm and examined the new weapon that Ratchet had just installed. It was a light weight, short range blaster. He activated it with an unspoken command and fired two test shots toward the targets at the far end of the range. They vanished in a puff of smoke and bits of flame.

"Nice shooting, Prowler," said Jazz, who was lounging at a desk behind the tactician. "I swear your aim got ten times better once you became an Autobot again."

"I was never anything else," said Prowl, deactivating the blaster. He turned to his brother.

Jazz's wounds had long since mended, and his armor was polished to a sharp gleam. They hadn't encountered any more fighting since the manic rescue mission. The whole year had been spent recuperating and keeping on the lookout for more trouble. It had been almost dull with the exception of that car thief who had tried to steal Jazz. That incident had produced a rather impressive amount of paperwork.

The invasion had stopped as quickly as it had started. The drones fell like ten million flies right out of the sky. The cleanup was still going on, and it would likely continue for years. The amount of destruction the drones had wrought in such a short period of time was staggering, even by cybertronian standards. But slowly and surely, Earth had settled back into normal modes of operation.

The world leaders had praised the Autobots for their contributions, and even the humans who had once sought to destroy them were slinking back into the shadows. Jazz and Prowl could now drive virtually anywhere without worrying about being assaulted. It looked like a new dawn for human-cybertronian relations, and Prowl felt more than satisfied with how the whole fiasco had turned out.

There was only one thing left to sort out.

**...xXx...**

"I do not need a _job,_" Barricade growled.

Barricade and Prowl were in their alt modes together in the basement of a Los Angeles Police Department building. They blended in perfectly among the other pristine police cruisers. Prowl had been outfitted with heavy armor that added a substantial amount of bulk to his frame. By the time Ratchet was finished with him, he was almost equal in size with Barricade, and so had chosen a nearly identical form. The '_To Protect and Serve'_ proudly emblazoned on Prowl's side being the only noticeable difference.

"You were incredibly vocal about your restrictions on the Autobot base and your own boredom," said Prowl. "Optimus has agreed to let you stay on Earth, but it is at your own insistence that you are not treated as an Autobot comrade. Taking a position within the human world will give you the freedom you desire and should provide some measure of entertainment."

"Playing with the squishies is not my idea of fun," said Barricade.

"Your options are exceptionally limited," said Prowl. "Do you have any alternative ideas?"

The only real alternative that Barricade could think of was to leave, but in the end, Barricade had stayed. Oh, he'd tried to leave several times, but after vanishing for a few weeks, he inevitably found himself back on the Autobot base with his brothers there to comment on the sad state of his paint job or the fact that his report was now a week overdue.

Barricade only grumbled.

"I did not think so," said Prowl. "Now behave, your new coworkers have just arrived."

Sure enough, a group of four humans appeared at the bottom of the stairwell. The one at the forefront was a large, beefy man with a very thick mustache. The two men on his right were younger and leaner with close cropped brown hair. The last was a smaller woman to his left who seemed very petite compared to her companions.

The large man stopped in front of Prowl's bumper.

"So, you're the one the President wants me to hire?" he asked in a brusque tone.

"No," said Prowl. "I am Prowl, and this is my brother, Barricade, who wishes to join you. I am merely here to see him settled in."

Prowl flicked his headlights over to the other surly police cruiser.

The man grunted and took several steps to stand in front of Barricade.

"Well, Barricade, I'm Jordan Michaels, Chief of Police," said the human. "I know why you're here. I know what you are. I know what you've done, too. The President himself came down to give me a briefing, and I gotta say, I don't know if I want to trust you. But it's my job to protect the people of this city, and if you can help me do that more effectively, then I'll just have to give you a chance. But I'm warning you, one mistake, and you'll wish there was enough left of you to send to the trash heap."

The fact that a lowly organic lifeform was deigning to threaten Barricade with death and destruction was almost enough to make the Decepticon burst out laughing. But he just managed to contain his mirth.

"Just give me a squishy that can keep up, and you won't have any problems," he said. "That is, _if _you have any that can."

Michaels narrowed his eyes, but rather than respond, he gestured to his three subordinates to come forward.

"These are officers Brown, Jackson, and Darling," he said, pointing to the two men and woman. "Normally, we would assign you a partner based on your personality, training, experience, and so on. But since you're something of a special case, the President has asked that you be given your choice of partner. You have their files, I trust?"

Barricade grunted his affirmation.

"Alright then," he said. "They have already been briefed on you and your kind. They're it. No one else wants to work with you. If you don't like them, then you can high tail it out of here. So make up your mind and let me know."

He turned and left, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly though the whole parking garage. The others were left to stare uncomfortably at the Decepticon.

Barricade glanced inward at the digital files Prowl had sent him. Brown had been an officer for seven years, had a spotless record, and good recommendations. Jackson, conversely was fairly new with only two years of experience and had a record so bland, he seemed destined for mediocrity. Darling was...Barricade frowned. Officer Fiona Darling. That name sounded familiar somehow, which was odd since he was sure she had never been on the Autobot base before. He did a quick internet search on her, but that yielded nothing but a famous father.

_:Prowl, does that squishy femme look familiar to you?: _Barricade asked privately.

_:Indeed, she is the human you saved just over a year ago: _said Prowl. A shadowed memory passed over the bond, and suddenly Barricade recalled the femme who had been attacked by a group of males. She had introduced herself as Fiona. _:Jazz mentioned her. Apparently she went on a talk show and described your rescue, which prompted Jazz to drive to LA. We should be thankful for her intervention, or else we might not have escaped the invasion:_

_:Feh, like I care: _said Barricade before closing the link.

"Beat it, Jackson," he growled. "I don't need a partner who can't haul his own slag."

Jackson stiffened, and stepped forward, mouth open to object, but Brown caught his arm and pulled him back. They exchanged a few tense words that Barricade didn't pay any attention to. And then Jackson was gone in a huff.

"Well, Brown, I don't need a goody-two-shoes either," said Barricade. "I get enough of that slag from this fragger," he flicked his headlights, indicating Prowl. "I don't need it from a fleshy partner, too."

Brown frowned. He too seemed to want to object, but whatever advice he'd just given Jackson, he apparently decided to follow it himself.

"That is unfortunate," he said formally. "Thank you for taking the time to consider me."

He gave a very slight nod, turned, and left. Yeah, that one had _Prowl_ written all over him. But he made a mental note that, if worse came to worse, Brown might not be _too _bad.

Finally, the only one standing there was Officer Darling, who was looking extremely nervous after the abrupt dismissal of her companions. But still, she stepped forward and squared her shoulders in an almost comical display of bravado.

"So I guess it's just us then," she said. "You, uh, probably don't remember me..."

"My memory isn't glitched, femme," he said. "Though I wonder why you think you can keep up with me."

"Oh...well," she cleared her throat. "Look. I'm new. I've only been at this department for four months. I don't have a lot of experience, but I want to become good. I want to become strong."

"Wanting isn't doing," said Barricade. "Why are you even here?"

"Right after you saved me I...well I," she sighed loudly. "Alright, I'm here because I wanted to thank you. I mean, you didn't have to save me, right? But you did. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't been there, but I know it wasn't good. So, I decided to change my life around. I didn't want to be the person that needed saving. I wanted to save others. I wanted to be like you. So I worked out every day with a personal trainer and spent six months working my but off every day so that I could become a police officer who could help others. And when I heard about you, and the fact that pretty much no one wanted to work with you, I just knew I had to offer. I know that you've got some imperfections, but I've seen your good side too, so if you'll have me, I want to be your partner."

Barricade regarded her for a long minute. A year ago, he wouldn't have believed that he could even consider this offer. But one year of living on the Autobot base must have driven him even crazier than he had thought, because when he compared going back to the Autobots to working with the humans, the humans actually managed to win out.

"You've got a lot of work to do, that's for sure," he said. And he popped open the passenger side door. "But you're not quite as bad as the others."

Fiona stared at him and then grinned. She stepped around the door and slid carefully into his seat. It was the first time that Barricade had willingly allowed an organic into his body, and the added heat, the softly beating heart, wasn't nearly as unpleasant has he had feared. He closed the door with a snap. "Alright, let's go check out our beat."

Prowl followed them out into the street.

"Be nice, Barricade," he said, and then he turned and began the trip back to Tranquility.

"So, anyway, I was thinking about your alias," said Fiona. "We can't call you 'Barricade' without it being obvious that you're not a normal police officer, and the Chief wants to keep your presence under wraps, right?"

"Get to the point, squishy," said Barricade.

"Well, I was thinking for your alias, that you would make a fine Bartholomew," she said, grinning. "Bartholomew Cade, aka 'Barry' Cade. Get it?"

Barricade was beginning to regret his decision already, but he couldn't quite bring himself to reject it.

**...xXx...**

Jazz stared out over the Lookout. He was settled low on his wheels. Prowl and Barricade sat on either side, all three of them in their alt modes just in case a random human decided to come along. It was a rare occurrence when all three of them had a break in the schedule, and when Prowl could drag Barricade back from LA. The former Decepticon seemed to have settled in fairly well after a few weeks. Prowl was back to doing patrols, and had considered taking up a similar position within the Tranquility police force.

Jazz was just thankful to sit back and relax with the two of them on a quiet Sunday morning. He occasionally traded a few words with either of his brothers, but for the most part, they just sat there in the warm sun with a cool breeze on this foreign world that had become their home. Their bonds pulsed the strongest when they were together like this.

Already his past seemed to fade. It was hard to imagine how he had survived without his brother. He didn't even want to think about trying to do it again. But even as that cold thought crept into his processor, Prowl's spark hummed against their bond, and he was reassured.

Yep. Life was good. And no one would ever steal his brother away again. Either of them.

**...xXx...**

**The End.**

**...xXx...**

**Note: **Well, this is the end. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I want to thank everyone who reviewed throughout the making of this story, and if you enjoyed it, let me know what you think! Also, I know that Barricade's personality seems to have changed rather abruptly at the end, but that is mostly due to the fact that he's lived with the Autobots for a year, and they've managed to rub off on him. I wish I could show a more subtle transition, but there wasn't much that happened between the end of the invasion and the epilogue of this story, so there wasn't that much to write about. As it is, I hope it's not too jarring.


End file.
